


Missed Calls

by Medicalnonsense



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Discovery, M/M, Nonsense, Random Access Memories, Science Fiction, Silly shenanigans, Time Travel, in response to an art on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medicalnonsense/pseuds/Medicalnonsense
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up from a night out with Guy-Manuel in the year 2001 was the last thing Thomas ever thought possible.  Or he would've thought that if it had ever even occurred to him that it could happen.  Stuck in the past by a baker's dozen or so years in Paris, Thomas needs to find a way back to his own time and Guy-Man as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

         Waking up in an abandoned, dilapidated basement was not Thomas’s idea of a good morning.  Perhaps, a long time ago, it had been, but at the age of thirty-nine, not so much.  Moreover…  Why was he wearing his helmet?  
         With a frustrated grunt, he sat up and quickly pulled the expensive, electronic paperweight from his head and made to sit it down.  However, once assessing that he was sitting on floorboards attempting to be consumed by the sodden earth beneath them, he decided against this course of action.  Instead, he sat it down in his lap and reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cellphone.  Turning it on, he gave another annoyed noise, supposed service for all over the globe and there was none at all where he was.  
          _Well, technology can only do so much.  I am in a basement._  If Guy-Man were with him, he would probably have said something much snarkier to remind him of this fact.  Actually, the last thing he remembered, he was with said man…  What…  What were they doing?  
         His mouth hung open slightly as he thought, a confused and concentrated “uuuuh…” sliding from between his lips.  He remembered the bar…  He remembered the basement…  He remembered the studio…  Something having to do with experimental hoosi-mi-what-sis-es…  Making another grunting noise he passed it up, his head hurt, perhaps he was hungover, but he didn’t remember drinking.  
         Either way, it didn’t matter just how he had gotten there, but it did matter that he got up and found Guy-Man.  
         Standing, he looked around the room he was in for possible exits and found only a rickety staircase.  With the tentativeness of a man who had many times fallen down similar stairs during the party-days of his youth, he carefully felt around the groaning wood as he trod up them.  As he left the dank, dark basement, however, he couldn’t help but internally remark that it was probably used for drug-fueled concerts back in the day.  He himself, after all, had had them in worse places, such as the middle of a field in the US with everyone in attendance approximately ankle-deep in mud.  
         The memories of those days long-gone made him smile as he held the 65,000 USD-worth helmet against his stomach with sentimental nostalgia.  It had been a long time since his days of awkward youth and he had long-since been in an era of awkward adulthood which never seemed to stop…  He supposed that not that many things had changed over the years.  
        _Don’t bother being so nostalgic, you’re not a has-been yet.  Five Grammys tell you so._ He reminded himself, his internal voice sounding more like Guy-Man’s than his own.  
         Finally seeing the light of day, Thomas was faced with another dilemma…  It appeared that the door was locked from the inside.  Well this was certainly a structural flaw in his plan of leaving.  Did he maybe have the key?  Otherwise, how else would he have gotten in?  
         Curious, he reached into his right pocket then shifted his helmet to the opposite arm and found no key in his other pocket either.  Well, maybe there was a broken window somewhere?  Searching through the building he wasn’t sure if he should be applauding his abilities at seamless breaking and entering or getting really angry that he couldn’t leave the ramshackle building.  With the seat of his pants wet with the mud he had woken up in, he was quickly going nuts and badly needed to get home for a shower, if nothing else.  
         Finally having enough of this nonsense and finding himself in a second-story room with a fire-escape outside the window, he sat the helmet down on a dusty, disused desk.  He took in a breath as he stared at the window in front of him and hoped that this was going to be easy.  The window’s latch was rusty, but he all the same got it to move, what didn’t happen though was normal creaking noise and the upward sliding of a glass pane.  Some more pulling and attempts at lifting with his legs happened before he eventually got so angry that he planted the heel of his right foot’s designer shoe into the wooden middle of the two panes.  
         With a surprised “bluh!” he tripped through the now broken window as the glass and splintered wood fell out if its frame and onto the rickety, rusted fire escape.  Seeing the wood of the window laid bare, he was made all the more unnerved by his somewhat higher than comfortable stance above the ground as he was able to see how rotted its insides were.  The fact that the fire-escape did not look friendly either wasn’t helping.  Steeling his nerves, he climbed back into the building and retrieved his helmet before stepping back out onto the screaming metal.  
         His eyes spying the drop-down ladder that was more than a few feet of the ground, he realized that in order to get his stupid performance head down there without breaking it, he was going to have to wear it.  Not that he was able to see in the damn thing at all or that it wasn’t bigger than his head normally was or that if he fell he would have more to worry about than replacing the most expensive thing he had ever personally bought in his life (that was not a house in California)…  You know, that sort of thing.  All his worries aside, he positioned his feet onto the beginning rungs of the ladder before placing the large object over his head, it fit snugly if nothing else could be said for it.  Carefully looking through the ventilation slots beneath the LED lattice before his eyes, he crept slowly down the ladder.  It rattled in the wind and protested under Thomas’s weight, which only spurred him to move faster.  
         Fast movement and lack of coordination in the end resulted in Thomas’s feet slipping off the last rung of the ladder and leaving him hanging by his arms.  He cursed to himself a few times as he tried to pull himself back up and arrived at the decision that the next time he wanted a burrito, he was going to go to the gym and do some arm workouts instead.  This resolution didn’t help his current situation any, not unless he could’ve gone back in time and foreseen this strange happening and prepared for it.  As that was not a possibility, he quickly needed to formulate the best way to fall because his fingers were beginning to slip.  
         “Merde.” He sighed as his hands slid off the rung and he plummeted to the pile of garbage bags below him.  “I always knew I was trash…” He commented to himself in light of Guy-Man’s absence to make fun of him.  
         All joking aside, however, this was utterly disgusting.  
         Standing up and brushing himself off, he pulled the helmet from his head again and held it to his hip.  Now to mentally prepare himself for photos and general irritation that came from walking around as a recognizable person…  He had two options though, one, walk around with it at his hip and have everyone be able to see his face as well as the helmet, or put it back on and suffer through everyone mobbing him.  Option one was somehow looking more beneficial because if he held it a certain way, it just resembled a misshapen silver ball.  Only the fans that had gone through lengths to see what he looked like would know who he was and those were generally respectful.  Well…  There was one douchebag that he had to be wary of since returning to Paris, but there had been no sign of being followed yet.  
         Going with option one, Thomas strode out of the grungy alley-way all the more aware of how dirty he looked with the mud on his clothes.  At least not wearing the helmet meant he wasn’t out representing the band and so at least negative press was being avoided.  However, as he strode down the street, he was beginning to notice some rather disturbing things.  One thing were all the cars, when did Paris decide to go so retro?  The same went for all the advertising, some slogan campaigns he remembered from his early twenties hung proudly in shop windows and what were people wearing?!  
          _Am I high?  Oh God, I’m tripping aren’t I?  Or, wait, am I dreaming?_  Very rarely did people stare him up and down like that with disgust rather than pleasant interest or lascivious wants.  He supposed there was only one way to test this, he really fucking hoped he was dreaming.  “Excuse me,” he stopped a young lady with her friends on the sidewalk, “would you, uh,” he was awfully nervous for this to be a dream.  She also looked awfully put out and disturbed by him speaking to her, “would, uh, kiss me?”  
         “I’m going to walk away now.” She told him, “Thanks for the offer, but no.”  Her friends taking her by the arm, they whisked her quickly away, going in zigzag patterns through the crowd as they began to quickly mumble amongst themselves.  
          _All right, so that doesn’t happen in your dreams._  Quickly assessing that he wasn’t asleep, he felt a horrible blush on his cheeks, she must’ve thought him a dirty old man…   _If I’m dreaming anyway, why the hell would I come back to…_  He passed a newsstand and found his eyes falling on the date…   _March…  2001?_  
         Excuse the world…  Just one moment…  
         He looked at another magazine, he probably had just misread, or the printing company had made a mistake.  March editions of periodical magazines were laid out before him as would be expected, but all of them held the date of a time exactly thirteen years earlier than he was sure it was.  Guy-Man was something of a practical jokester and they certainly did have their share of friends to orchestrate such elaborate pranks but…  It really was a bit much to pay all of these actors wasn’t it?  
         Sucking on his tongue, he nodded his head a few times and stepped away from the newsstand before he was going to be asked to buy something with his anachronistic money…  Safely tucked away in an alley out of the public eye, he screamed “ _What the **fuck** is going on?!_ ”  One did not just _fall the fuck asleep_ in their current time period and wake up somewhere (somewhen?) else!  That shit just didn’t goddamn happen!  He was sure that if it _did_ that he would've heard about it a long fucking time ago.  What was going on?  Why was his phone vibrating?!  
         Grinding his teeth a little and putting his helmet down to rest on his shoes, he whipped out his phone as if to answer it, but found that it was impossible for it to have ever been vibrating in the first place as he had exactly zero service.  The amount that he had was technically still nonexistent as he was sure cellphones were barely even a thing in 2001.  Never in his life could he ever again make the joke of having negative amounts of service and it would be so relevant.  
         In spite of this, he found he had one missed call which had not been there before as well as a voicemail message.  Far be it from him to question why he was able to receive calls or even voicemail messages from beyond the veil of time, but he was not going to question it.  As he dialed the number that he should not have even been able to call in the first place, he waited as his mail picked up.  He hoped this was actually going to be something useful rather than the potential that it was someone hoping to sell him something.  
         “You have:  one unheard message.” The automated voice said through radio static, “First unheard message.”  
         “Thomas, where the hell did you go?  You just disappeared!”  It was Guy-Man’s voice, he could make out.  It was a little muffled, but definitely him.  “Call me back when you get this message.” Guy-Man continued, pausing for a second before tacking-on “Don’t do this to me again.” and hanging up.  
         “End of message.” the phone told him.  
          _When did I ever do it a first time?!_  He internally screamed, trying to figure out a way to call him back, but as he seemed only able to receive calls, not make them, he put his phone away for later checking.  On the flipside…  At least Guy-Man was all right; doing better than he was.  Moreover, as Guy-Man had been able to place the call it seemed likely that the same thing had not happened to him and he was still blissfully encased in forward-thinking 2014.  
         Picking up his helmet again, he paced back and forth in the alley, trying to formulate a possible plan of action.  He wasn’t totally sold on being in 2001; however, with some interestingly mounting evidence such as remembering the exact alley was standing in containing a basement bar he knew to be closed in 2014, he was getting there.  If he really _was_ in 2001, he really needed to make sure nothing got fucked up…  However, considering he and Guy-Man had already both been born and had already both successfully produced two albums together, usual time-travel things to avoid didn’t really seem to apply here.  
        _Okay, so now what?_  He wondered; this couldn’t have been a common problem and he doubted that anyone he readily had access to could really tell him exactly where to begin on getting back to where he was.  He had no time machine, he and Guy-Man hadn’t performed any sort of ritual, satanic or otherwise and he was sure aliens couldn’t possibly have been involved or creepy, stone angels.  
         Should he laugh?  Cry?  Go postal?  Or do the stupidest option on his list and try to locate himself and his friend…  That last one was pretty high up there as far as something to do.  He just reminded himself not to get too close to 2001 himself, because every movie he had ever seen about that kind of thing never ended well.  Usually ended in creating a paradox and the universe imploding or something like that.  Thomas Bangalter was firmly in the organization of not destroying the universe and ruining everyone else’s lives accidentally and so, yeah, not doing that.  
         Weighing some options in his head, he realized that he couldn’t just stand around and do nothing.  Still nesting the helmet against his stomach, Thomas left the alleyway for the main road again.  He was getting tired of that bum staring him down with the muggin’ lust in his eyes.  As he walked through the streets, gravitating more towards places he hung out frequently in years-past, it quickly solidified for him just _when_ he was.  
         His favorite record store was still open, he recognized with a smile; it was unfortunate that he knew of the shop’s fate, in 2005, it was to be closed and then renovated to make way for a store that sold “trendy”, overpriced clothes.  It made him happy to see it again as much as it made him sad, he supposed that it wouldn’t be _too_ bad of an idea to go pop around for a bit.  Knowing he wouldn’t buy anything, he did feel bad for entering the shop, but he also knew that nothing under the sun could save this place.  He needed to enjoy it again for what it was one last time.  
         Eagerly browsing the vast selections of vinyl, he found a huge grin spreading over his face.  Of course, he couldn’t resist gravitating towards the music idols of the time.  With particular glee, he plucked an album from the racks that was impossible to find anymore.  Guy-Man, of course, had a copy of it even if it definitely wasn’t the band’s best album.  He had always been attached to it though, claiming that it appealed to him the same way that a trashy pop song with sick beats appeals to the hardcore metal fan.  
         Shaking his head with fondness, he slipped the vinyl back into place as another customer came near him.  Interestingly enough, they had their attention on the exact same LP; they reached in quickly to snatch it out of the rack as if afraid it was either going to be absorbed permanently into the mass or it was going to be lost.  Thomas let out a short chuckle--they were probably worried that he was thinking about buying it--stealing a glance at the young man standing beside him.  
         He was speechless for a whole, agonizingly slow, ten seconds.  
         The man next to him, as significantly shorter as he had always been, looked over the back of the album with an icy gaze.  His hair was long, dark and brushed his shoulders, one side of the fluffy mane even dropped down over his field of vision.  Thomas swallowed thickly, having to clear his throat to breathe properly after the initial ten seconds of shock faded.  
         He was in 2001 staring openly at his incredibly _young_ and…  And hot…  Best friend.  Of course, if he were thinking as he had in early 2001, Thomas would not have remarked his bestie being hot, merely “I can see how someone would find him bangin’.” No, that description of “hot” had come from years and years of seeing him change, see time work its magic well on him; the most important man in his world was hot in 2014 just as he was in 2001.  
         It didn’t take long for Thomas to be reminded of how perceptive Guy-Man had always been, all the same as he was forced to look away when Guy-Man lifted his head to respond to the staring.  As Thomas casually played-off that he was looking at some vinyls in front of him, he was painfully aware of his likewise being observed.  Never in his life did he think he would be happy to be balding, that his face had filled out more with age and that he had never thought to wear a full beard in his early twenties.  He also was grateful that he wasn’t wearing green that day.  That probably would’ve given him away as well.  
         “Did you want this?”  Thomas heard a familiar, deep voice ask him.  
         “Uh-uh, I-I, uh…”  He really needed to get to something more helpful as far as a sentence went and fast.  “No!  You can have it!” he grinned, but quickly stifled it as he didn’t want it to be too obvious who he was.  “I was just thinking that, uh, I have a friend and they really, _really_ , think that album is slammin’.”  
         “Oh?  Really?” Guy-Man raised his eyebrows with interest, turning the record case around in his hands again to further inspect it.  
         “Y-Yeah…”  Thomas found himself distracted by Guy-Man’s stunning profile, this was potentially one of the worst things that could’ve ever happened at the same time as being the best.  “You should really give it a try, uh, if-if they’re a band you like.”  
         “I don’t know, I hear it’s different from everything else they’ve ever done.”  
         “Different doesn’t mean bad.”  Thomas chuckled, unsure of how many times he had said those exact words to the man’s future counterpart.  “I think you’ll really like it.”  In a typical Guy-Man shrug of “I guess” Thomas knew at that moment he had won.  “You won’t regret it.” Thomas grinned at him.  
         “I’ll hold you to that.” Guy-Man gave him a sidelong glance of contempt as was so very common for him, “Have I met you before, by the way?”  
         “Uh, I don’t know…”   _Shit._  “Have you?”  
         “I thought I did…  But I don’t know now.”  
          _Explains why he bothered talking to me at all._  
         “You look very familiar is all.”  
         Thomas waved him off, “Nah, I-I…  I don’t think so.  I think I, uh, you know, just have one of _those_ faces.”  
         “Can’t say I agree.” Guy-Man rebutted with a click of his tongue.  “I haven’t seen anyone that looks quite like you before.  But I still feel like I know you.”  
         “Guy-Manuel, you ready to go yet?”  With mild interest, Thomas raised his head to Guy-Man’s brother Paul’s voice.  He had to suppress the urge to grin at him as well, Paul hadn’t changed _all_ that much either.  
         “Yeah!”  Guy-Man responded, “Found the record I wanted.” he motioned with the object in his hand.  He took a step away from Thomas, pausing for just a second to glance over his shoulder at him.  Thomas knew not to laugh, but it was always hard whenever he saw Guy-Man appear to make a difficult decision over something insignificant.  In this case, Thomas was banking if he should tell him “goodbye” or not.  
         “Nice meeting you.” the smaller man bid, turning his lovely back to him before striding away.  
         Telling the truth, Thomas had the urge to follow him.  An old habit that never really died, he had never been probably able to assess, he supposed, how often the two of them just followed each other around.  It always just felt like they both needed to be going in that same direction.  It felt weird just for Guy-Man to be walking away from him with the intention of leaving and never seeing him again.  
         Frowning, Thomas dug into his pocket and checked his phone to see if he had anymore missed calls or voicemails from his Guy-Man.  With a disappointed sigh, he pocketed the device again and looked up to the younger version of his friend as he paid for the record.  At least he knew now how he had acquired it.  
          _Had I known back then…  Now?  Ugh, whatever, this is all confusing._  
         Watching as Guy-Man pulled a cigarette from the carton in his back pocket and place it between his lips, he started to move towards the exit.  He couldn’t stay there much longer, especially given that he had run into someone he was specifically not supposed to.  As Guy-Man left with Paul, so did he leave behind them, giving them both a wide berth.  With a step outside, however, Thomas was again overcome with an intense feeling of discomfort and restlessness.  
         Thomas needed a place to go, but everywhere that seemed appropriate really wasn’t safe.  He didn’t have money that anyone would accept and then there was that he was carrying, well, this _thing_ around; which, thank god Guy-Man hadn’t noticed what it was, that would’ve probably created many problems.  Beginning to walk and not obstruct the traffic of people on the street he gravitated towards walking uptown, at this time, however, he remembered that Guy-Man lived downtown in some cheapo flats nearby.  That really didn’t help him, however, so he just kept walking.

  
          After a lot more walking and still no new plan of action or missed calls on his phone, he gave a frustrated grunt, he realized he needed Guy-Manuel with him.  What good was raw drive to do something, _any-fucking-thing_ without any focus?  Guy-Man was usually better at that last part, especially when Thomas could label himself as being “overwhelmed”, but considering his better half was just not present at that moment, he would have to figure things out on his own.  
        Taking some deep breaths he arrived at what was the worst idea ever, he might not have known who he was, but if he needed that person to help him…  “At least I remember where Guy-Man lives.”


	2. Chapter 2

         As far as lengthy walks went, at least Guy-Man didn’t live too far from where Thomas had been wandering around.  His arms were starting to get tired from holding the helmet, not to mention he had to take a really wicked piss.  Also, he might have been hungry; that was also a thing.  
         Though, as he arrived at the stoop of the building Guy-Man lived in, he was unsure how he would exactly gain access to his friend’s home.  He knew he probably still sounded like himself, but what if he was already up visiting him…?  What would he do then?  Really having nowhere to go as he had no money and it was unsafe to talk to anyone else he knew in the time, he had no choice.  Then there was also the possibility that Guy-Man wasn’t even home…  
         Thomas cursed to himself and decided “here goes nothing” as he pressed the call button for Guy-Man’s flat.  He waited a few moments and received no answer on the intercom, but when he wasn’t expecting visitors, Guy-Man often read.  Buzzing the intercom again and having to wait another few tense seconds, he almost stepped off the stoop to find something to do until he _did_ return.  
         “Yes?”  Thomas jumped at hearing Guy-Man’s voice through the speaker by the door, “Who is it?”  
         Clearing his throat, Thomas began, “It’s me Guy-Man, open the door.” hoping to sound not nearly as tense as he was.  There was a few moments pause from Guy-Man’s end of the ‘com.  
         “Thomas?” the younger man guessed correctly.  “You told me you were going on vacation with your family, you ass!”  
         Well, Thomas realized that he could not have had more stellar luck than in that moment.  Now that he had been reminded and really thought about it, he did remember a long vacation with his family in the spring to some other country…  Spain perhaps?  That rang a bell, definitely.  All the same, he couldn’t just say who he was…  Or could he?  Clicking his teeth in deep thought, he decided that as long as he could get up to Guy-Man’s flat to begin to explain himself, he was golden.  
         “Yeah, sorry, dude!  I, uh, I needed to talk to you about something.”  
         “So…  Rather than call me, you took a train back…?  Yeah, that sounds logical.”  Guy-Man sarcastically answered.  
         “Whatever are you gonna let me in or not?”  
         “I just got off the phone with you, you’re in Mazarrón, _Thomas_.  Who the fuck are you?”  
         Curse their superior friendship communication!  Thomas lifted a hand to his face and moaned a little in frustration, “Guy-Man…  Really…  It’s me, I need your help.”  
         “Sure buddy.  I’ll give you props for your impression of Thomas though.  It’s spot on except for one thing.”  
         “And what’s that?”  Thomas leaned against the brick of the building, wondering why his friend was even indulging him this far if he thought he was just a practical jokester.  
         “You sound old.”  
         “You’ll get old one day too.” Thomas rolled his eyes.  
         “Haha, yeah.”  He could tell the other man was growing tired of this exchange, he had better say something good and fast.  
         “And we’re going to do so many things together in the meantime.”  
         “Okay, seriously, get lost, creep.”  
         “Have you listened to the new album you bought yet?”  
         “Uh…  Yeah?  Hang on, are you the guy from the record store?”  Guy-Man questioned suspiciously.  “Did you follow me home?!”  
         “The first one is correct…  The second one, no.  I just remembered where you live.  Actually, is Paul with you right now?”  
         “Listen up, you had better step off and get lost or I will call the police.  I don’t have time for a crazy stalker today or any day.”  
         “I’m not a crazy stalker!”   _Ugh, but you’re going to have one…_  
         “As if that’s going to convince me otherwise?”  Guy-Man gave a sardonic chuckle.  
         “My name is Thomas Bangalter, we met in school when we were kids, you used to make me mixtapes all the time, but, eh, we mostly watched movies more than anything--haha, _The Lost Boys_ I’d have to say was _probably_ our favorite movie of all time.”

         “Ugh, buddy, I don’t know who you are, but I’m not talking to you anymore.”  
         “When we were in upper secondary school your first serious girlfriend broke up with you over a record you smashed.  You cried every day for about a week and it was really embarrassing.”  
         The other side of the intercom was silent…  Thomas really hoped that Guy-Man had heard him.  By the detectable static of an open audioline, he knew he was still listening, perhaps in shock.  
         “You didn’t shave your head because you wanted a new look.  You shaved your head because some idiot was being stupid with a bottle of vodka and a lighter and lit your hair on fire.”  
         “Did Thomas put you up to this?”  
         “I _am_ Thomas.”  The tall man asserted again.  
         “You can’t be.  Thomas is in Spain.”  
         “If you can’t believe that I actually am Thomas…  Then at least assume that if I know those things that he promised to never tell anyone that I am a close friend.”  Guy-Man said nothing and he let out a frustrated, hopeless noise, “Guy, please…  I need you to help me out, here.”  
         The intercom went dead and Thomas puzzled over whether or not it would be appropriate to cry in that moment.  As he tried to conjure up new ideas, the hopelessness returned, he checked his phone again and found that there was another missed call!  It was from Guy-Man, of course, but there was no accompanying voicemail.  Cursing he felt like throwing the object against a wall or smashing something.  Doing anything at all in that moment seemed marginally better than just standing around and crying.  
         As he took a step down the stoop, he sat down on the concrete stairs instead and dialed his voicemail.  He listened to Guy-Man’s concerned voice on the other end and sighed, it hadn’t even been a day and he already missed him.  As his inbox prompted him to either archive or delete his message, a stroke of brilliance smacked right into him.  He couldn’t _call_ Guy-Man, but Guy-Man could still get his voicemail message, clearly…  Selecting the option to change his outgoing message he waited for the beep and spoke.  
         “Hi, this is Thomas Bangalter, I’m somehow having an existential crisis in the year 2001.  I can’t make calls and I don’t think I can answer them either, but I can receive voicemails.  I’ll get back to you whenever I end up in the same time period again.  Oh, and Guy-Manuel…  I…  You know what I want to say.  Bye.”  Pressing the button his phone to play the message back, he made sure it had actually recorded before hitting the save button.  He was surprised that the action worked, the phone informing him that his mailbox outgoing message had been changed successfully.  It was likely that in the next few days, he was going to have the best (worst?) game of phonetag in his life.  
         “Do you really think you’re Thomas?”  The tall man jumped in surprise as the intercom crackled to life.  Internally, he wondered if the man had been listening to him, he somewhat hoped that had been the case.  
         “Guy, if there’s one thing you know about me…  It’s that I don’t _think_ , I _know_.” he chuckled.  
         “You’re often wrong, though.”  
         “It’s the world that’s wrong.”  
         “I’m going to let you in…  But don’t try anything funny, I _will_ call the police.”  
         “I know.”  
         “Do you?”  
         “Yeah, I remember your last roommate.”  
         “He stole all my shit, what was I supposed to do?”  
         Making a face, Thomas laughed, “He didn’t steal your shit!  He tried to fuck you while you were asleep!”  A loud buzz met Thomas’s ears and he jumped up, still cradling his helmet as he pulled the door open and fled up the wooden stairs to the fourth floor.  He knocked on the door marked “B” and held his breath.  
         The door slowly pulled open and he had to silently release his sigh.  Guy-Man, young and still trying to discern whether or not this man really was trustworthy or not, stared up at him.  He had his lips pursed, an expression of innocent, critical curiosity lighting his intriguing eyes.  
         Thomas flicked his nervous tongue out over his lips to wet them, “Hi, Guy…” his voice shook a little.  
         “I am about ninety-five percent sure that you are who you say you are…  But, if you are Thomas…  Why are you so much older?”  Guy-Man probed, his eyes trailing up and down the aged form of the man he had seen only days prior.  Eventually, his gaze rested on the silver, familiar and yet still different helmet that was held at the supposed impostor’s hip.  
         “Because,” Thomas began, shifting the helmet to sit between both of his hands rather than at his side, “because…  The Thomas you know will be me in about about thirteen years.”  
         “You expect me to believe that you’re from the future?”  Guy-Man narrowed his eyes up at him, having still not opened the door any more than wide enough to see his face.  “Who were you talking to outside?”  
         “Oh, uh…  I was changing the voicemail on my phone because…  Because obviously I don’t have service in this time.”  Thomas pulled out his cellphone and offered it to Guy-Man for inspection.  
         “That’s a phone?”  
         “Yeah, they look kinda weird don’t they?”  Thomas asked as he clicked the phone on and ran his fingers over the pattern required to unlock the screen.  Even if he had no service, he was able to access the dialpad and type in a few numbers.  Of course, the number that came up as he experimented had a name attached “Guy-Man  <3”.  
         “That’s…  Kind of convincing.”  Guy-Man returned his attention to Thomas’s face the next second, “What year are you from, then?”  
         “2014.”  
         “And…  How’s that?” the shorter man asked, opening the door and stepping out of the way.  
         “It’s been a hell of a ride.” Thomas answered with a grin as he stepped into the flat and Guy-Man closed the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

         Walking out of the bathroom, Thomas zipped up the fly of his pants, he had badly been needing that.  As far as he could tell, Guy-Man had not moved from the couch he had situated himself on at all in that time.  He still had one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette poised between his fingers.  However, as this cigarette appeared longer than the one he had had upon Thomas’s entering the bathroom, he could surmise that the man was chain smoking now.  Thomas couldn’t possibly blame him.  
         Guy-Man’s eyes were fixed firmly on the helmet sitting on the coffee table, which, actually, sat next to his own helmet.  He took a long drag on his cigarette and let out the smoke in halting puffs.  
         “Guy-Man?” Thomas interrupted, coming to sit in the chair across from the couch the other man sat upon.  
         “Yeah, what?” The shorter man quickly turned his attention from the two robot heads to…  He was going to assume he was his best friend, sort of, but if this man was thirteen years older, he couldn’t possibly have been the same “person”.  
         “Nothing, you just seemed particularly interested in my helmet.” he chuckled, this being that awkwardest he had ever felt around Guy-Man.  
         “I’m still trying to figure out if you’re lying and this is just a cheap imitation or not.”  
         Thomas frowned, “Well, I’m glad you’re not picking it up and shaking it around to test that, then.  It’s worth thousands of dollars.”  
         “Really?”  Guy-Man raised his eyebrows in sarcastic disbelief, flicking some of the ash off his cigarette into the ashtray below.  “Because it looks pretty cheap to me.”  
         “Is it ratchet?” Thomas joked, smiling.  
         “Excuse me?” Guy-Man blinked a few times in confusion, trying to discern exactly what “ratchet” was supposed to mean in this context.  
         “Oh, right, you’re not Sass Master _yet_.”  Thomas chuckled, picking up the helmet and opening up the back to play around with a couple mechanisms within.  “No matter, you’ll be snapping your fingers in the Z-formation soon enough.”  
         Guy-Man made a sputtering noise before finally articulating “What the hell are you even talking about?”  
         “I can’t really tell you.” the older man laughed at his friend’s nonplussed face before closing the back of the helmet, switching it on and placing it over his head.  Considering his usual habit of never having the helmet out of its storage case and not having its control around, Thomas searched around the inside of his coat and quickly located it with a great deal of relief in his left breast pocket.  Also, bonus smartphone charger!  
         “Wow, programmable LEDs and everything.” Guy-Man observed as his name scrolled across Thomas’s screen.  “Ever fix the visibility problem ‘Thomas’?”  
         As Thomas shook his head back and forth, his screen read “NO”.  
         “So… Still blind?”  
         “YES” the screen told him.  In spite of his affirmative in the blindness area, Thomas reached out and easily located the gold helmet on the table.  He took it into his lap and smiled fondly under his mask as he ran his fingers over the smooth surface of its visor.  
         “Put that down!”  Guy-Man instantly ordered and Thomas’s reaction was only habit.  
         “MAKE ME”  
          The shorter man across from him stood making a frustrated noise, “Either put it down or get the fuck out of my flat!”  
         Seeing as this Guy-Man was significantly less interested in playing with him when it came to the helmets, he quickly replaced the gold robot head back where he found it.  At the same time, he figured that they needed to talk some more and removed his own helmet as well, turning it off.  A frown had set itself back into Thomas’s face as Guy-Man began to pace over by the windows that faced the street.  He watched as he stole momentary glances back at Thomas, his tense mouth drawing in drags off the cigarette between his lips.  
         Thomas stood, tentatively closing the space between he and the younger version of the person he trusted most in the entire world.  He was somewhat saddened to see that Guy-Man immediately ceased his pacing in an attempt to give Thomas a berth and stare out one of the windows.  Meanwhile, the taller man groped for something to say that was appropriate; he couldn’t entreat his young darling to calm down nor could he do that which he had become accustomed to when comforting him.  
         Settling on reaching out to him, before Thomas’s fingers could touch the smooth skin of Guy-Man’s arm, he felt his phone vibrate.  In a single movement, Thomas snatched his phone from his pocket and observed the screen “1 Missed Call” but to his dismay, no “1 Voicemail”.  He cursed to himself, Guy-Man probably hadn’t even waited for his voicemail to pick up the impatient little…  Instead of lingering on it, Thomas shoved his phone back into his pants, noticing the younger man observing him from over his shoulder.  
         “Could I have a cigarette?”  Truth be told, he hadn’t smoked in years and Guy-Man had significantly cut back himself, but, somehow, it seemed fitting in the time he was.  
         Wordlessly, Guy-Man rolled his eyes and took out his box of cigarettes, offering it to him.  Thomas thanked him as he plucked one from the box and held it to his lips.  Not skipping a beat, Guy-Man even proffered his lighter, Thomas accepting it and lighting-up.  
         Taking his first drag, he joined Guy-Man in observing the scene out the window.  
         “Waiting for someone to call you?”  the shorter man broke the silence.  
         “You, actually.”  
         Guy-Man snorted, “Well, you went ungracefully bald, what happened to me?”  
         Slowly turning his head towards Guy-Man, he narrowed his eyes and let the smoke float from his mouth, “You get fat.  Shut up.”  
         “What?!”  As Guy-Man jumped to glare at him, Thomas began to laugh.  
         “You go to the gym with me though!  It’s all good!” Of course Thomas neglected to tell him that he was only overweight for a _couple_ years.  It wasn’t a long term thing, but, messing with him sounded like a great option.  
         “Whatever happened to ‘best friends’!?  I can’t believe you’d call me fat!”  
         Thomas laughed harder, holding his stomach, “I forgot how sensitive you were at this time!”  
         “Sh-Shut up…”  Guy-Man put his cigarette back to lips and took a rough drag.  “Fartknocker…”  
         “Diva.”  Thomas scratched under his chin at his beard, grinning.  
          Amazingly…  Guy-Man chuckled.  It was quiet and under his breath, but it was certainly a laugh.  
         “Do you know how you got here?”  Guy-Manuel broached, leaning his head against the window’s glass.  
         “No.  I just woke up in a basement…”  
         “Where?”  
         “On the corner of…”  For a second, Thomas’s mouth hung open in recognition.  “Oh…”  
         “What?”  The other man raised his eyebrows, this time in interest rather than suspicion.  
         “That building’s condemned.  It’s going to be demolished in the next few years.  And the basement of the new building is going to be a studio.”  
         “Were we recording a new album?”  Guy-Man asked, sounding almost excited.  
         “Nah, nah.”  Thomas laughed, “After our last one?  We won’...”  He stopped himself, realizing it was best not to divulge any information on that, “No, we released one not long ago.”  Thomas felt his heart swell at the expression on Guy-Man’s face, he would’ve…  It stood to say that Guy-Man would always be Guy-Man to him, no matter what time period.  That face would never go away, it would always make him giddy and grin.   _Oh, Darling…  You’re gorgeous._  He thought, suppressing the smile he felt to keep speaking, “A friend of ours actually owns it, we were in visiting.  Having a few drinks, that kind of deal.” Thomas sucked on his tongue in thought for a second, “Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, you…”  You helped him buy it…  
         “I what?”  Guy-Man tossed his hair and drew in his last breath of his cigarette.  
         “Nothing.  I can’t tell you too much about the future.  I wouldn’t want to spoil it.”  
         “I feel like we’re going to be playing this game for the duration of your stay.” Guy-Man scoffed.  
         “There are other games we could play.” Thomas quirked his brows at him with a smirk and after receiving some very flustered noises before some obtuse laughter from Guy-Man Thomas had to remind himself yet again of just who he was speaking with.  
         “L-Like what?” some more uncomfortable chuckling from Guy-Man and “Chess?”  
         “Don’t steal my thunder, I’m suppose to suggest ‘chess’.”  
         “Oh…  What am I supposed to say then?”  Guy-Man fumbled, a little disturbed that this was even a thing at all.  
         “After I suggest chess you normally laugh and then deadpan at me, ‘Solitaire’.”  Thomas laughed, but could tell his friend was having a lot of trouble just grasping why this common back and forth was exactly funny…  He sighed, “You’ll get it some day.”  
         “No, I get that chess is a two-player game and solitaire is played alone, but…  I don’t get….” The younger man shrugged.  
         It ached that Thomas couldn’t explain it to him in simple terms of “what else is normally done with two people?” but doing so he feared gave away too much of what their futures would hold.  The last thing he would ever want to do would be to mess that up…  The very thought of it just about sent him into a panic; no, it was better that he didn’t mention that.  
         “As if you don’t like being difficult with me.” he explained instead.  
         “I guess…”  Moving along to better subjects, “How long are you going to be here?”  
         “I don’t know.  I’m hoping to find a way back, but I wouldn’t know where to begin.”  
         “What if you can’t?”  Guy-Man questioned, moving to stub out the butt of his cigarette into the coffee table ashtray.  
         “Well…  I don’t have any memories of running into an ugly bloke like me during this time.  So, I’m going to _assume_ that I make it back somehow.”  
         “I don’t know, you do have one of _those_ faces.”  Guy-Man sniggered.  
         “Wasn’t it you that said I was wrong?”  Thomas smirked, “Said you’d _never_ seen someone quite like me before?”  
         Guy-Man fumbled for a second, “I can’t see your mole and you’re balding and I don’t know what the hell that is that you’re wearing!” he frantically excused, waving his arms at the designer label clothes.  
         “I thought you’d be proud of me that I’d finally changed my shirt.” Thomas chuckled, figuring that Guy-Man had grown comfortable enough for him to take off some of his unnecessary clothes.  He untied his scarf and tossed it to the harried leather couch and shrugged off his jacket to do the same.  He wore a V-neck shirt that day, the tiniest patch of his dark chest hair able to be seen poking out, and resting above that was a gold and black, pyramid-shaped pendant.  
         The other man made a face at him, “Did you somehow get even _hairier_?”  
         Thomas rolled his eyes, “For the last time, I’m not shaving it all off again--it was unbelievably itchy.”  
         “What?”  
         Noticing his own mistake, Thomas stuttered for a second, “Uh, nothing, not important.”  
         “Why did I ask you to shave all of your hair off?”  
         “That’s not important.”  
         “It isn’t?”  
         “No.”  
         “Then why are you avoiding the question?”  
         “I’m not avoiding it, it’s just not important.”  
         “Thomas…”  
        Oop, his weakness in any argument with him, “You just wanted to see what it would feel like!”  Shit.  
         “W-Why would I want to do that?!”  Suddenly his expression was disgusted and rather than feel hurt, Thomas just wanted to laugh; it was similar to the face he made upon hearing music he didn’t agree with, just before he was about to go off on some sort of tirade.  
         Applying his hand directly to his face whilst sighing, “Because you’re weird.”   _And like teasing me._  
        “I…  I’ll laugh a lot.  Won’t I?”  This was clearly becoming too weird for him to withstand, and obviously, the taller man _did_ feel sorry for him…  At the same time, he was far too cute when he was so embarrassed.  
        “Yeah, yeah, you did.”  Thomas chuckled, _Not for the reason that you’re thinking though._  He gave the necklace a tug in thought, quickly searching for a change of subject.  
        “So, eh, what’s that?”  Guy-Man found it for him shortly after he motioned for him to follow him to the kitchen.  Thomas stopped mid-gait to wonder exactly what “that” was before his eyes traveled down to his hand enclosed around the metallic pendant.  
         “Just a necklace.”  Thomas passed off, continuing to follow him and see Guy-Man reach into the refrigerator to pull out a bottle.  The shorter man had a new cigarette already and offered the bottle to him.  
         “It looks like my helmet is all.” Guy-Man casually pointed out, passing the glass container into Thomas’s left hand.  His eyebrows quirked at something he saw, but Thomas didn’t think to ask.  He wasn’t going to question Guy-Man’s stability in the situation too much.  
         “It’s part of a pair.  You have the other one.”  
         Guy-Man nodded, staring flatly at the calendar hanging before his eyes as he popped the cap off his own bottle.  “I’m going to guess that one’s silver?”  
         “Yeah…”  Thomas followed suit and popped the cap off as well, taking a sip at the same time Guy-Man did.  
         “So, am I the only one in your dull, little life, or does that ring tell me you’re married?”  
         How to answer that…  Because while Guy-Manuel was not the only person in his “dull, little life”, they _did_ live in California together and all…  And… Well…  
         “Yes, I am married.”  He pulled up a stool at the breakfast bar and sat down again, at some point, he really needed to stop answering all of his questions.  
         “What’s her name?” Guy-Man smiled at him, perhaps genuinely feeling happy for him.  
         “Can’t spoil that either.” Thomas clicked his tongue a few times and shook a finger to and fro.  
         “Am I married…?”  The question was quiet and unsure, “Actually, nevermind.  Don’t answer that.”  
         “I had no intention of doing so.” Thomas shrugged, “You’re very nosey.”  
         “Interesting for the shoe to be on the other foot.”  Guy-Man coldly asserted with a flick to Thomas’s most prominent facial protrusion.  
         The older man flinched back and rubbed the tip of his nose, “Do that again and see what happens.”  
         “Ahaha, I’m so scared of boushy old men.”  
         “Be careful who you call a boushy old man…”  Thomas hissed under his breath menacingly as he moved to creep up behind Guy-Man.  He pushed his face into the shorter man’s endlessly amused by the fearful expression in his deep eyes, “You might just become one!” Thomas suddenly grabbed onto him, breaking a laugh out of him.  He shoved him away, watching him stumble over his own feet for balance.  
         “You don’t change much, do you Bangalter?”  
         “I guess not.”  
         “Want to go out and do something tonight?”  Guy-Man offered, chugging half of his beer and therefore making it obvious to Thomas just how unwell he was internalizing things.  
         “I don’t have any money that wouldn’t be suspicious.  Euros with future dates printed on them probably will be met with some incredulity.”  
         “When do you start using such big words like ‘ _incrédulité_ ’?  I like it.”  
         “Whenever it is I get over the ‘this shit is wack’ phase.”  
         “Mmn, that’s not happening anytime soon.”  Guy-Man commented, finishing his beer and tossing it into a nearby garbage can with a loud “clink”.  “Don’t fuss about it, though.  I have plenty of money.”  
         “You barely just got that thing made, though.” Thomas motioned to the gold helmet sitting on the table.  “Neither of us had any spending money for awhile…”  
         “It wasn’t th--”  
         “Yes, it was.” Thomas huffed, he liked Guy-Man no matter his age, but he was quickly being reminded that he had no concept of money-management at his current one.  
         Guy-Man narrowed his eyes at him, “You sound exactly like yourself.” he petulantly remarked.  “How about you don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and just accept my offer, Bangalter?”  
         “Because I can’t ask you to--”  
         “You’re not.  I’m offering.”  There was never any use arguing with him over these kinds of things.  Never had been, never will.  “While we’re on the subject, do you have a place to stay?”  
         “No.”  He supposed he _could_ stay at his…  This era’s Thomas’s flat since he was away, but since he didn’t particularly remember coming home and the place being any less than the wreck he’d left it in, he didn’t think he was going to stay there.  Then again, it had been years ago and he couldn’t have been expected to remember everything that happened.  
         “Take the spare mattress.”  
         “In your room, as usual?” Thomas questioned, folding his arms over his chest.  
         “Ehm…  How about, just out here?”  Watching him carefully, Thomas saw an uncomfortable shiver in Guy-Man’s shoulders.  He nearly asked what it was about, but he chose not to ask, knowing Guy-Man would either refuse to answer or would snipe at him.  
         “Fine with me.”  Taking one last sip off the beer, he sat it on the table and walked past Guy-Man, clapping him on the shoulder as he went to locate the mattress.  He was wholly unaware of the terrified expression on Guy-Man’s face all the while as he observed his perfect memorization of the flat.

 


	4. Chapter 4

         In the end, the two men had decided that the exact opposite of what was wise was to get Thomas around everyone else in their crowd that knew him.  It meant that Thomas was left alone in Guy-Man’s flat while he was out having fun, being stoned and jumping up and down…  And screaming with glee so palpable, hearts were able to be seen floating off him as he danced.  He always was a screamer…  
          _Cri d’amour indeed._  
         Sitting up on the clothed mattress, Thomas suddenly had the urge to go cruising the scene where he lived and try to rouse the old attitude in his more laid back counterpart.  Needless to say, parenthood did things to plans like that, though.  He had more to think about than just having fun.  
          _When did you get old…?_ He stopped that train of thought before it went anywhere; he got old--so what?--but he never completely grew up, neither had Guy-Man.  Under his breath, he laughed, thinking of Guy-Man’s sudden enthusiasm over his favorite songs coming on the radio, his hap-hazard beatboxing to them and terrible singing.  Their sing-a-longs in the car were always hilarious, pulling up to a red light and having a five minutes dance party in front of the other drivers who had no idea who they were.  
         “Look at the white boys try to dance.”  their faces said “Don’t they know they’re too old for that music?” others practically screamed and inside Thomas laughed, realizing they had no idea what they were witnessing; two childhood friends having a fucking awesome time, of course.  Sometimes, though, their faces would change to “Whoa, wasn’t expecting that.” and they would look away as their car-dancing took more intimate turns with lips and grabbing…  They weren’t exhibitionists, but sometimes…  If Guy-Man could become so overcome with emotion as to scream like a rabid fangirl at the tiniest wave from his favorite band, then how could they not expect a swell of violent emotions to erupt in other ways?  When screaming just wasn’t enough…  
         Thomas held his face in his hands, the room was dark, Guy-Man had been away for hours as he was wont and those hours of no entertainment had left him to do nothing but think.  Think and worry.  Think, worry and miss his children and of course Guy-Man and Elodie.  He wished more than anything that he could talk to his two best friends, but Elodie didn’t call every day and Guy-Man hadn’t opted for leaving him any new voicemails.  
         Turning his head up towards the window, he saw the full moon cresting overhead, for a second, just one second, he wondered if his own time had the same full moon.  That was extremely unlikely, however, if he wondered if the younger him was looking at the moon too, he realized how bizarre the thought was and ceased immediately.  Whoever it was that said you only see the same full moon once clearly had never had this problem.  At least he was pretty sure someone had said that…  Somewhere…  Or it was equally plausible that he was going crazy.  
         Rubbing his face tiredly, he scratched his beard, he needed some sleep, it had been a very strange day.  The best way to end this very disorienting day too was by sleeping, so that was definitely the thing he wanted to do.  He peeled off his shirt, resolving to take a shower in the morning as he tossed it to the couch and unzipped his jeans to give himself some breathing space.  As time travel proved to be a very exhausting experience, the moment his head hit the pillow, he was lost to the world.

***

         At the presence of a bright light on the other side of his eyelids, Thomas rolled over and planted his face into the fluff of his pillow.  There was the loud noises of a door being slammed and the noise of glass being shuffled and clinked together as well as drunken, unsteady footsteps.  Thomas then proceeded to scream.  
         “Whoa…  Is he alright?” an unfamiliar, yet still placeable voice asked.  “Who is that anyway?”  
         “Oh, uh…  That’s, uh, you know Thomas?”  
         “Of course I do.” The woman’s voice sounded snide as Thomas lifted his head with one eye open to observe Guy-Man and his soon-to-be girlfriend with an extra woman in tow behind them stand near the doorway with booze clutched in their palms.  Thomas knew who she was too all right, that woman in less than six months time was going to cheat on him several times and convince him to sell parts of his music collection for chump change.  If Thomas couldn’t see it as a crucial part in Guy-Man’s development, he might’ve been convinced to warn him, but he was also very tired and also very not drunk.  
         “His uncle stopped in town.” Guy-Man explained and Thomas re-planted his face into the pillow and screamed again.  “He’s a little not right in the head.”  
         Thomas screamed a third time, louder, the muffling of the pillow starting to do no good.  
         “He’s so creepy…” He heard the woman, her name was Nicole, whisper not so discreetly to her boyfriend.  For those few moments he was reminded in his groggy daze just how much he had hated her.  
         “A little.” Guy-Man conceded, giving Thomas a few concerned looks as he clutched at his pillow and screamed yet again.  “We should let him sleep.”  The drunk, young man ushered the two ladies towards his room, flicking off the lights.  
         With the “ker-klik” of a door being closed, Thomas released his pillow and sighed, sliding his head so he could stare off into the dark over the edge of his pillow.  He didn’t want to accept where he was, he also didn’t want to accept what he knew was going to be happening just one room over.

  
         Between the hours of three and five, Thomas got zero sleep.  These reasons were quite understandable when it was taken into account that Guy-Man had brought home two women and he himself was quite loud.  Thomas laid on his back, very uncomfortable as he listened to Guy-Man cry and moan in pleasure with the thump-thump-thumping of a bed and squeals of women.  Considering that first part was nothing new to his ears and he actually loved those sounds, a mountain stood tall and proud in the sheet that covered his body.  
         He was broken out of his internal reveries, however, by the vibration of his phone which was plugged into the wall not far away.  Not expecting anything amazing, he picked the phone up and turned on the screen, squinting at the brightness.  
         “1 Missed Call” it read, but, joyously, underneath that notification it read “1 Voicemail Message”  With a grin, he dialed his voicemail and waited with baited breath.  
         “Hey, Thomas,” Guy-Man’s voice began on the other end, slow and deliberate.  “I’m glad to know you’re at least safe and that…  That…”  The man made a flustered noise before moving on.  “I tried to explain things to Elodie, but, obviously I doubt she would understand what’s going on…  So she and the kids have a shortened version.  And as well as fabricated, so don’t worry about them.”  Another pause and Guy-Man took in a breath, letting it out slowly. “You probably don’t know what’s going on either, but, that’s okay because,” Guy-Man laughed, “I didn’t and still don’t.”  
         For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to Thomas at all that Guy-Man remembered everything that was happening…  For a moment as Guy-Man on the other end of his message was still trying to summarize what he wanted to say, Thomas was lost in all the “what ifs” of Guy-Man’s life.  The things he knew, but never talked about…  Considering that Guy-Man often kept “unimportant” things to himself, though, it wasn’t very hard for Thomas to believe that he had been silent all these years.  
         “I can’t tell you anything that’s going to happen…  I wouldn’t want to risk changing anything.  I’ll just tell you to do what feels right at any given point.  Knowing what’s happening, or going to happen or…  How the hell are you dealing with this?  This shit’s confusing to talk about, anyway, ugh, just…  Just be responsible, which you always are.”  Thomas in the background heard the clank of glass meeting glass, he was willing to bank that Guy-Man had been drinking as he spoke.  “Do what you will, seriously…  I’ll work on finding out what happened and how I can get you back to now.  
         Trevor was beside himself…  He wouldn’t stop crying, Elise wasn’t much better, but you might need to apologize to Luc though, he wanted to see you during his spring break.  Elodie is flying here with the kids tomorrow, not that it matters for you, I guess, I don’t know how time streams work.”  Guy-Man yawned on the other side.  “It’s nearly six in the morning for me.” he explained, “I need to sleep, I’ll call again later.”  the slurping noise of him taking a sip of his drink met Thomas’s ears and he rolled his eyes, the man was so rude sometimes.  “I love you, Thomas.”  
         “End of message.” the phone voice announced to Thomas’s dismay.  
         Closing his eyes, Thomas sighed, “I love you too, Darling.” he muttered to the darkness.  
         “Talking to yourself over there?”  
         Thomas jumped at the voice of Guy-Man that was actually in the room.  He made to turn around to face him and hide his still enthused groin, but got a warning of, “No, no!  Face the wall.  This is my flat, I’ll walk around naked if I want to.”  
          _As if that’s something I wouldn’t want to see…_  Thomas did as asked and faced the wall, at least it would lower the already miniscule chances of Guy-Man seeing his protruding problem.  “Not like I haven’t seen you naked before.”  
         “This feels different.”  Guy-Man explained, his voice floating from the kitchen over the “shhhh” of the running faucet.  
         “Sex was that good?”  
         The sputter of water being spit out all over the kitchen counter met Thomas’s ears, “None of your business!”  
         “C’mon, you only have some serious post-lovemaking drinking problems when shit’s good.” Thomas pointed out with fond chuckles.  
         “Bangalter, I don’t want to talk about this…”  
         “Maybe use my name without implying some kind of suspicion and I’ll stop.”  
         Guy-Man didn’t answer him and continued what he was doing at the sink.  
         “Okay, then; you were making a lot of noises there for it to have been boring.”  
         “Bangalter!” By that high squeal to his voice, Thomas could bet he was blushing, his fluffy, sweaty hair a wreck and plastered to his forehead.  The light, waving curls feathering off him in cute little locks…    
         “I almost couldn’t tell you apart from Nicole.” The older man sniggered to himself and partially in spite of himself.  
         “Stop!”  Thomas looked over his shoulder as he heard Guy-Man stomp over to him.  With easy joy, he grinned up at him, seeing a glass of water clutched in his bony fingers; he narrowed his eyes in challenge.  “Where’s this new stubbornness coming from?”  Guy-Man questioned placidly, one hand over his junk and the other moving the glass to a less threatening spot by his lips.  
         “You’ve taught me well over the years.”  Thomas chuckled, plopping to lay on his back as he forced his obtrusive body part into his pants.  “How am I ever supposed to get anything I want when I can hardly deny you anything, Da-uh, dude.”  
         “Mm.” Was Guy-Man’s only response as he observed him over the rim of his water.  “Do you miss her?”  
         “Huh?  Who?”  Thomas inquired, turning his head to the side.  
         “Whoever ‘Darling’ is for you now.  I’m just guessing she’s your wife this time.”  Guy-Man tossed Thomas’s discarded clothes about on the couch and sat down.  
         “You heard that?”  Thomas uneasily asked, staring up at the ceiling.  
         “I was just thinking you were particularly enraptured by that phone call that you didn’t hear me walk by.”  Guy-Man explained, “I thought you couldn’t make phone calls.”  
         From the peripherals of his hearing and vision, Thomas saw a tiny flickering light and heard the “flik” of a lighter.  The scent of fresh smoke filled his nose as he laid in the warm bed and he nearly forgot where he was.  There were simple reasons behind that, Guy-Man’s voice and the familiar situation of a bed with the smell that was so specifically his…  The smell of coital sweat and tobacco smoke; oh, it was as sweet as home for Thomas as he shivered under the blankets.  
         “Are you okay?”  Guy-Man asked him, tearing him away from his mind’s pleasant reeling.  
         “Yeah…”  Thomas bit his lip as he felt the moment retreat from his senses, he was with a man that barely trusted him again and in home of the past.  “I can’t make calls, no.” he explained.  “But I had a voicemail message and…”  
         “Oh…”  Guy-Man nodded, a bright, cherry-red light glowing brighter for a second and then dimming again to allow moonlight-catching smoke to float from its end.  “I’m sorry I can’t help you, Thomas.”  
         “It’s no big deal.” the sad man reassured, watching him from the corner of his eye as Guy-Man’s dark hair fell off his shoulder to hang over one side of his face.  His skin was so tantalizingly smooth in appearance under the pale lights that filtered in from outside.  More than anything, he wanted to reach out and touch him, run his hands over his shoulders and down his sides; his fingers molesting the smooth, deep bumps of his ribs--he could nearly feel it in his imagination--before parting at his waist to circle ‘round and clutch his hipbones.  There was no one whose anatomy he knew better and cherished as much…  It was within arm’s reach and yet so far away all the same.  
         “I did some thinking tonight.”  Guy-Man started in a soft voice, “And now, I just can’t help but think more about it.”  Smoke slowly floated from his nose and from between his lips as he spoke.  
         “What’s that?”  
         “I don’t know what you think of me now…  However, it seems either in the future I’m less perceptive, or maybe it’s become a point that doesn’t matter because you seem to have a lack of boundaries with me.  If your teasing is anything to go by.”  His voice was deep, cool and calculated, there were no haplessly thrown-in words.  “The way you look at me, it’s different from now.”  
         “I see you finally know it’s me.”  
         “You knew Nicole’s name.”  Guy-Man snorted with good humor.  “You’re definitely Thomas.  Just…  You don’t look at me the way that Thomas does.  The Thomas of now, I mean.”  
         “I would expect to be different.  We go through a lot together to get where we are.”  Thomas tried gently to circumnavigate the issue Guy-Man was trying to address.  As was common of Guy-Man though, and Thomas knew better than to fight it, but he couldn’t be blamed for trying, his friend would not be derailed.  
         “I saw my name in your phone.  You have my necklace and I have yours.  You said you were waiting for a call from _me_ , not anyone else, in spite of the fact that you are ostensibly married.”  
         “Is there something you’re looking to ask…?”  Thomas frowned up, turning his face from Guy-Man to look at other things in the fuzzy darkness.  
         “I don’t know.”  
         “Are you sure about that?”  
         Guy-Man stubbed out his cigarette before it was spent and stood.  He didn’t say anything else, not even a “ _bonne nuit_ ” before Thomas heard “ker-klik”.


	5. Chapter 5

         “Hi, you’ve reached Thomas Bangalter…  I’m still having an existential crisis in 2001 and I’ll get back to you when we’re in the same time period again.  For Guy-Man, you’re going to have to explain some things.  Is it possible for me to change the future?  Is it possible for me to…  To undo something precious?  Anyway, tell Remy I said ‘hi’ and Trev…  And Luc and Elise.  I love all of you.”  Thomas saved his new outgoing voicemail and tossed the covers off himself.  Rather than return to sleep, he laid awake the rest of the time he could’ve been spending doing so.  He spent it worrying instead.  In his earlier assessment of “what’s the worst that could happen?” he had forgotten the births of his own children…  As well as Guy-Man’s; they both had two and Guy-Man had only mentioned three of them in his recent voicemail…  Of course, it was just likely that Remy was with his mother in California, he spent more time with her than his pair of fathers.  
         Sometimes their mother’s favoritism of Remy over Luc made Thomas angry, but he couldn’t really say anything about it, they were both her children too and the only reason they were _his_ children was because of Guy-Man…  All the same, he tried to shrug off the chill in his spine, Remy had been born after Luc and Luc seemed fine.  Also, his wakefulness was dictated by the fact that the sun had peeked through the Parisian buildings earlier than he would’ve liked; it was an old habit to rise with the sun that he had never broken.  With the giant windows over the mattress he slept upon allowing that to stream in, he wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep.  
         Guy-Man’s room, however, had thick, heavy curtains over the windows that blocked the sun amazingly.  If he could somehow get away with sneaking into Guy-Man’s bed that morning, he would’ve done so.  The fact that his friend had two lovelies with him somewhat made that impossible.  Also, there was that Guy-Man seemed very apprehensive about where his realizations about Thomas were going.  He didn’t even want to begin to broach that subject…  
         Standing up, he zipped his pants, neglecting a shirt as he shuffled towards the kitchen and went through the pictures on his phone.  Ah, their kids were adorable little shits.  Ah, Guy-Man’s ex-wife was really not happy in that photo…  But Elodie, Guy-Man and the kids were and so therefore he couldn’t care less.  Feeling all the more relieved to see his phone’s picture cache full of photos containing everybody, he pocketed the device and began to wonder about new things…  
         He hadn’t put too much thought into their first time, really…  Or, actually, he just hadn’t put too much retrospect on it.  Everything that had happened between them was what it was.  They didn’t worry about if they were going to have these feelings for each other for as long as they did and it didn’t seem like it was stopping any time soon.  The love had lasted through the marriages to two very accepting women…  Well, one more accepting than the other, obviously.  As well as through two very remarkably simple divorces…  Anyway…  He supposed that maybe Guy-Man did feel like he was hiding something…  It had been so long ago though, that Thomas had forgotten the tiny details of it.  The only real thing that he remembered was that it was one of the most unobtuse first times he had ever had with someone; let alone with a man.  
         For a second, Thomas turned beet-red.  What were these things he was thinking of?  Why was he even considering that he might…  He might actually…  He squirmed in his skin a little, trying to forget the horribly embarrassing thoughts by opening up the fridge.  The immediate, chilly wind from the box of cold made his nipples perk up in parody of the action going on below his beltline.  
          _Fuck the morning._  He thought scornfully, _Fuck Guy-Man fucking and making so much noise…_  Yeah, but, he wasn’t really going to complain about that anymore, he’d already spent so many hours prior doing so.  He guessed he could take a shower or something…  It wasn’t like he had never jacked off in his best friend’s shower before.  
         With a snigger he thought _I wonder if that stain is still there_ as he headed off for the bathroom.

  
         A “fssh-fssh” and a muted “Aaah!” later, Thomas washed white soap suds from his groin and moved on to more intelligent trains of thought in the steamy room.  As was normal, he brought his phone into the bathroom with him in the event of a call, but as he scrubbed his hair clean and made sure there was nothing sticky caught in the rest of his body hair, he was given no timely updates.  
        Resting his head against the tile of the shower, he picked up the body soap that was specifically left in the flat for him and scrubbed the rest of himself clean for a second time, trying to distract himself from his worries.  However, once he decided he could no-longer make up anymore excuses to waste time in the shower, he stepped out, dropping a towel onto his head.  Gently, he patted down his hair and moved on to dry other parts before pulling his underwear and pants back on.  He really needed to see if it would be possible to get some new clothes, he was not spending the next how ever long in the same, dirty garments.  
         Upon stepping out of the bathroom, his eyes met perhaps the last thing he would’ve ever wanted to see.  Seeing Nicole herself was an annoying thing just being, but she had lifted Thomas’s helmet from the table and placed it on her head just as he set foot into view.  Trying to quash the rush of rage he felt at someone who didn’t know what they were doing handling such an expensive piece of equipment, he took slow, silent, deliberate steps towards her.  
         Whilst Nicole spent some time trying to orient herself in the large helmet, Thomas slipped behind her.  The last thing he wanted to do was break the thing, so, he gripped it firmly by the sides and lifted it from her head.  Nicole, needless to say, lost her ever-living shit.  
         “Oh my god!” She screeched, attempting to run away from the hands that grabbed at the heavy, robot head.  Which, didn’t prove to make things any more difficult as Thomas was a great deal taller than her.  “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Nicole rounded on the half-naked man once assessing just who it was that had snuck up on her.  
         “I don’t believe my nephew would take too happily to someone playing around with his helmet.”  Thomas calmly explained, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in gut at referring to his past self as his “nephew”.  “I just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get damaged.”  This was _his_ Hero helmet after all, a replacement for it might have existed back in his time, but it was of significantly lower quality and he didn’t need to shell out the cash required for a new Hero to be made.  
         “You could have just said something.” She huffed, correcting her mussed, light-brown hair, “You didn’t have to scare me like that.” the woman continued as she dragged her eyes up his beanpole self.  
         “I didn’t want to risk scaring you even more and you dropping it.”  Thomas clicked his tongue, “It was very loose on you.”  
         “Chill out,” Nicole waved him off, “me and Thomas are cool.  I doubt he would’ve cared.”  
         “If you dropped it?” Thomas raised a pair of sarcastic eyebrows.  
         Nicole crossed her arms over her stomach and rolled her eyes, “No…  I mean just that I was touching it.” she scoffed at him, “I was being careful…  I don’t have the money to replace them and I don’t want Thomas hating me.”  
         True, she hadn’t done anything _yet_ to make him hate her…  That wasn’t actually going to be for several months, but hindsight is twenty-twenty and Thomas felt like he wanted to have some fun-fun.  He wasn’t bitter at her, he was far too old for that kind of thing, but being faced with her again and being reminded of the things to come for Guy-Man…  
         Could he consciously be a douchebag?  Yeah, yeah he could…  Did he _want_ to be a douchebag?  This was probably the only time he would ever be able to get away with it…  
         “Be that as it may, this was expensive.”  Thomas excused, putting the helmet back down next to Guy-Man’s.  “And just, eh, a precaution, you know?”  
         “Right…”  Nicole raised her arms and re-crossed them over her chest, she was wearing one of Guy-Man’s shirts as well as a pair of his pants.  For a second Thomas wondered if she just couldn’t be arsed to put her own clothes on, but, hey, Guy-Man’s clothes did smell good…  It was just a pity that the lovely man was significantly shorter than him and so _him_ trying to wear his clothes was comedic at best.  
         Thomas walked onward towards the kitchen, attempting to dismiss the way her eyes never left him.  Picking up a long, thin loaf of bread, he grabbed a knife as well as the cutting board hanging from the wall.  As he began to slice, he noticed Nicole had followed him and was still inspecting him for some reason or another.  Being polite, he asked “Would you like some?”  
         “No thanks…”  Nicole haltingly responded, remaining silent for an extra few moments as the “crssh” of cutting hard bread filled the space between  “So, you’re Bangalter’s uncle?”  She questioned uneasily, strolling to the refrigerator and pulling out a glass bottle of milk.  
         “Oh, how rude of me, Thomas.” he gave her an awkward nod.  
         “Really?”  By the face she was making, he bet that she was trying her hardest not to laugh.  “Does anyone in your family ever get confused when Thomas--your nephew, I mean--grows out his beard?  You two look a lot alike.”  
         Shit…  That explained all the looks he was getting.  “Uh, sometimes yes.  The name alone creates problems at family get-togethers…  I live in California though…  So it’s not often that it’s a problem.”  
         “Oh, well, my name’s Nicole.”  
         “Wonderful name…  Did you know that the name for pumpernickel bread comes from Nicole?” Thomas began, desperately trying to fill their awkward, suspicious silence.  
         “I love pumpernickel!  Does it really?” She popped the top off the bottle and drank straight from it…  That ratchet, inconsiderate fuck nugget.  
         “When Napoleon invaded Germany the only bread his foraging troops could find in raided towns was the really dark pumpernickel rye bread…  Napoleon didn’t like it and said ‘ _C’est pain pour Nicole_ ’, Nicole was the name of his horse.”  
         Nicole stared at him, still holding the long-necked bottle of milk up to her lips, “That’s…  Nice…”  Thomas would’ve laughed at her offense were he actually not focusing on the knife mere inches from his fingers.  He could be considered a klutz with sharp objects and after Guy-Man having to drive him to the hospital so many times, it was a house mandate that Thomas was not allowed to ever look at anything else other than the knife and his hands when he was cutting something.  
         “Why are you staying with him?” She questioned, placing the milk back into the fridge and going to pluck an apple from a bowl sitting nearby.  “You’re a Bangalter, so…?”  
         “Due to a miscommunication, I came to visit while everyone else was on vacation.”  
         “That sounds like a really awful miscommunication…”  Nicole questioned, obviously not believing it, but unable to find any real reasons to contest his words.  “Why stay with Guy-Manuel though?”  
         “Uh, my nephew suggested it.”  
         “How did you even get him to let you in?”  That was a good question...  
         “I told him I was Thomas’s family…”  
         “And, are you paying in some way for him to let you stay here?”  Nicole bit into her apple and raised an eyebrow.  Yes, yes, there were many reasons why Nicole and Guy-Man were perfect dating material.  A great example was they both seemed to be incredibly allergic to bullshit.  
         “Guillaume is gener--”  
         “I know you weren’t just about to say he’s ‘generous’...”  Nicole cut him off.  “He doesn’t spend his money on _anyone_.”  
         “Are you trying to talk shit about him, now?” Thomas put the knife down and picked up a slice of bread, biting into it and chewing slowly.  
         “No, just…  Don’t you think you’re a bit old for him?” She took another bite out of her apple and Thomas blushed furiously.  
         “What are you trying to imply, young lady?!”  
         Nicole rolled her eyes and bit into the apple again, chewing and swallowing before answering, “Come _on_ , we all know how loose the man is.”  
         “W-With women, yes!”  Thomas choked on his words a few more times before successfully articulating anything, “If you’re implying that he’s letting me stay because we’re…  We’re…”  
         “Having sex?” She offered; another bite and that apple was looking just about as skinny as she was.  “Yeah, I’m saying that… It’s just convenient that no one else in town would know you besides your relatives and they’re all out of town.”  
         “Accidents happen!  Stop your nonsense and mind your own business.”  Thomas crammed the rest of the bread into his mouth.  
         “It was more Guy-Man than you that made me suspicious.”  She shrugged, “If I got it wrong, I’m sorry.  I just know him and I don’t see any reason why he would let you stay other than that”  One last bite and she dropped the apple core into a nearby can, “Also, you called him Guillaume.”  She turned to leave, but Thomas called for her to stay put.  
         “What do you mean, you _know_ him?”  There had never been any…   _Any_ indications to him before that Guy-Man had even had interests in the direction she was implying…  “Is there something he tells you that…” he cut himself off before he said anything incriminating.  
         “Why do you want to know?” She smirked at him and Thomas floundered in his head, there was nothing he could do or say, _nothing_ that wouldn’t make things seem how she was interpreting them…  It was only Nicole and she wasn’t going to be in his life for too long.  He also had to know…  Because he was infuriated that Guy-Man had never thought to say anything about any of this to him.  
         “Well, you accuse me of staying here because he wants a whore or something and you’re not even going to justify why you thought that?”  
         Now it was Nicole’s turn to blush, she looked apologetic as she spoke “No…  It’s nothing he says,” Nicole motioned with her hands towards where the man in question was sleeping, “Nothing he _coherently_ says.  Just, you know, he and… Uh…  Your nephew, they hang off of each other.”  
          _Oh, we fucking do not!  Well…  Now we do but…  That’s different!_  “They do?”  
         “And last night, the other girl…  She wanted her boyfriend to come alone and Guy-Man didn’t say no.”  
         “That doesn’t mean anything.” Thomas blew off the observation.  
         “I guess not, but see him dancing with a couple of guys kind of drives it home.”  
          _He never did that!  Not once!_  “Does he?”  
         “Normally it’s just Thomas.  When he’s gone though…”  Nicole lifted her hands to the sky as if in incredulity, “I don’t know.  I’m sorry I was so crass.  It just seemed more likely too since you look so much like Thomas.”  
          _That shit…_  He never said anything?  Ever?  “It’s okay…  An honest mistake.” he assured her.  
         “Didn’t mean for things to get started off on the wrong foot…”  she, in turn, guaranteed.  “Forget I ever said anything, right?” the charismatic woman winked at him conspiratorily.  
         “Yeah, of course.”  Thomas smiled.  
         “I should probably get back to him…”  She pointed in the direction of the bedroom, blushing again, “He was upset that I needed to get something to drink.”  
          _Sounds like him…_  Thomas fondly observed, but kept to himself.  “I won’t keep you.” he smiled to her before she turned around and headed back for the bedroom he wished he too could be in.

  
         Thomas couldn’t believe that he honestly was sitting down and watching television.  He had been watching television for about three hours and it was nearly noon and he wasn’t sure how most people did this on a day-to-day basis.  He especially didn’t know how they did it in 2001, this stuff was god-awful…  Picking up the remote, he turned off the television, applied his hands directly to that facial thing and rubbed the morning-not-well-spent malaise from it.  His phone had been vacant of everything for the entire duration of the morning and he was past stir-crazy and in the realm of cabin-fever.  
         Grunting, he stood, pulling at his thinning hair “This is ridiculous!”  
         “You’re ridiculous.” Came a grainy, tired voice from behind him.  
         Jumping and clumsily spinning around at the newcomer, Thomas found it very hard not to burst out laughing at the sight upon him.  Actually, he found it so hard, that he didn’t stop himself at all.  “Bahahahah!  Have you _seen_ yourself?!”  Guy-Man’s hair, a floppy mess in every conceivable direction, had to be brushed from his eyes in order for him to glare at Thomas.  “Why are you wearing Nicole’s blouse?” Thomas continued to laugh, not even trying to stop.  
         “She has my shirt.” he coughed into his hand “I didn’t fit into her pants though.” at that time, he reached back into the pocket of his jeans and took out his box of cigarettes.  “I told her she’s not getting this back until I get what’s mine back.”  
         “Mmn, be careful, your bust is more likely to pop a button than hers.” Thomas pointed out, stepping over to him to finger the straining button in question.  “If taking it off safely becomes a problem I could help you.” he sniggered, hoping that he was coming off as more teasing than flirty in that moment.  
         “Shut up.” Guy-Man lit-up his cigarette and averted his gaze as Thomas smiled down at him…  “You really should put a shirt on…” he tried to encourage, letting some smoke out of his mouth.  He gave the furry wall in front of him another glance, realizing that he smelled exactly like the Thomas of his time did.  “Did you take a shower?”  
         “You never minded before, so I figured you wouldn’t mind now.”  
         “No…  Did you help yourself to breakfast?”  Guy-Man walked around the beanpole obstruction before him, heading for the kitchen.  
         “Of course.”  Thomas chortled, “You know it’s my life’s dream to eat you out.”  
         “Excuse me?!” Thomas noticed Guy-Man’s face turn apple red before he realized his mistake.  
         “Out of house and home, I mean.” he laughed.  
         After some flustered muttering and grumbling under his breath, Guy-Man settled upon “You’re very intrusive.” with an irritated click of his teeth, “Quite a rude houseguest.”  
         “Like you don’t do the same thing when you’re at my place.” Thomas chuckled, giving him a playful shove.  
         “I don’t walk around without a shirt on.”  
         Before Thomas said anything in return, they both turned their attentions to the sound of a door opening and closing.  
         “You heading out?” Guy-Man asked the blonde woman who Thomas didn’t know as she headed for the door.  
         “Yeah, boyfriend’s outside.  Thanks for the awesome night Guy-Man.”  She grinned at him and gave him a wave.  
         “See ya.” he bid her as she left the apartment and clicked the door closed behind her.  
         “Just a fuck buddy?” Thomas questioned.  
         “If you don’t know who she is, I guess so.”  Guy-Man observed with a puff of smoke.  
         Thomas mentally kicked himself, he should probably avoid commenting upon or asking questions about anyone.  “There’s a lot you don’t tell me.” he shrugged.  
         “You sound irritated by that.”  Guy-Man, again, walked away from him, running his hands through his hair as he opened the cupboards and tried to find something to eat.  
         “No, I’m not really…”  
         “Can you stop following me around?!”  Guy-Man hissed at his tall friend’s continuous, close proximity.  “I don’t want dark hairs in my food.”  
         Taken aback by the sudden outburst, Thomas took a few steps back from him, “I’m sorry…  Are you feeling all right?”  
         “I’m fine, just stop with the clinginess and the stupid innuendos and…”  Guy-Man’s eyes fell on the gold pendant seated above his chest fur, “Do you do this with me _now_?”  
         “It happens when you live together.”  Thomas shrugged, feeling self-conscious and perhaps like he was revealing a bit much.  
         “I thought you said you were married…?”  Guy-Man paused, his cigarette frozen an inch from his lips between his tantalizing fingers.  
         “Uh…” Thomas lifted his left hand to his neck and rubbed uneasily before leaving it to rest on his shoulder with nothing more to say.  Never in his life did Thomas think someone declaring “Busted” would’ve been so appropriate.  
         For a few mortifying moments, Guy-Man’s eyes flicked frantically between the silver ring and the gold pendant, his mouth becoming tighter and tighter-lipped.  
         “Oh, fuck no.”


	6. Chapter 6

         He was laughing… Yeah, that was a positive sign.  Laughter was good from Guy-Man, usually.  Thomas wasn’t entirely sure at that moment just if _hysterical_ laughter was a good thing, but he marginally preferred it over him being angry.  The shorter man was running his hands through his hair, his eyes squeezed shut at his interpretation of the moment’s hilarity as he buckled forward.  He opened his eyes for a second and squeezed them closed again, his laughter further intensifying.  
         “Are you all right?”  Thomas awkwardly asked, letting his hand finally drop from his shoulder to sit in his pants’ pocket.  
         “Ah… Ah… Ah…”  Guy-Man began, taking breaths to slow his laughter as he straightened up with a huge grin.  In a clear second between breaths, he put his cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, “Ah.” He went again, sighing the smoke from his nose.  “Ah, yeah…” another drag and a sigh, “Yeah.”  
         “Better?” Thomas supposed with an unsure smirk.  
         “Yeah, yeah.  Good.  Great.” Guy-Man grinned at him and nodded, taking a final, _long_ drag from his cigarette.  Like a pro, it was reduced to ash and he flicked the butt into the sink.  “I always knew that marriage wasn’t for me.” Guy-Man muttered through the cloud of smoke that came from his lungs with every word.  
         “What was that?”  
         Guy-Man shrugged and turned away from him, resuming his earlier attempts at food procurement.  He looked into the fridge and grabbed sliced tomatoes, meat, lettuce, onions, mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup, pickles, a cucumber…  It was easier to say what he _didn’t_ grab, which were the baking soda, the milk, eggs and a tupperware container in the back of the fridge which seemed to contain a black mold slowly gaining sentience.  With no less amusement than he normally would have, Thomas watched as his friend sat everything out on the counter before taking the baguette before him and slicing what was left of it horizontally into two spread buns.  Yes, his _Chéri_ had a huge appetite, but there was nothing wrong with that.  
         “I said,” Guy-Man began, glazing the buns with the slick, white condiment.  “I always knew that marriage was not for me.”  
         “What do you mean by that?”  Rather than close the distance between them as he ordinarily would have, he still needed to give Guy-Man his space.  Instead, he leaned against the face of the closed refrigerator.  
         “I live with you.  You’re married, though.” Guy-Man pointed out, spurting a stream of red to mix with the white between the buns.  “You don’t have to say it.” he sighed.  
         “Um…”  Thomas held in all his desires to panic; Guy-Man didn’t seem too pleased with where his conclusion had lead him.  Would it really have been that bad to be married to Thomas?  Really?  “What are you trying to say?”  
         “Obviously, there’s only one possible reason that these two things are both true.”  The shorter man was frowning as his hair fell over his downturned face.  He let out a doleful breath, inserting cucumber into the slick insides of the baguette before him.  
         “And that…  That makes you _sad_?”  The other man was confident that that simple fact was far more upsetting than any possibility of Guy-Man being angry that it was how things turned out…  Thomas never had considered Guy-Man a settler as far as relationships went; even if he was, he would’ve stayed with his ex-wife rather than going through the trouble to divorce her and marry him…  Something wasn’t adding up correctly here.  
         “Wouldn’t you be sad too if you learned _years_ before it’s going to happen--or rather, not--that you’re never going to find someone to complete you and that you’re stuck living with your best friend and his girl as the awkward third wheel?!”  Guy-Man slammed his fist down on the counter, making all the sandwich ingredients and knives jump.  “I didn’t want to know if I was married or not for exactly this reason!”  Taking in a deep, harsh breath and letting it out in jerking spurts, Guy-Man threw everything else he had before him onto the giant sandwich in no particular order.  A zigzag of mustard covered half the ingredients as tomato slices and ham cuddled together on a bed of oak-leaf lettuce; nearby, voyeuristic pieces of sliced cheese observed their flavorful intermingling under a shroud of spinach, peppered with tearful streaks of onion…  
         “Guy, calm down.” Thomas soothed, seeing why the man was so intent upon food suddenly.  “It’s really not like that.”  Deciding that distance really was not going to be the best way to handle this situation, Thomas took a few tentative steps towards him.  
         “Then what is it like?!”  The emotionally distraught man roared in his face, “Did she leave me!?  Was I too difficult?!”  He narrowed his eyes as Thomas stuttered for something to respond with.  In the end, he scoffed and fished a pickle spear from an open jar and took it into his mouth.  He sucked on the length and lapped off the salty goodness as he furthered his magical, comforting creation on the countertop before him.  Muffled by the pickle in his mouth, Guy-Man muttered unintelligible curses and sentences to himself, Thomas wishing more than anything to cheer him up…  
         Things really _weren’t_ like that.  Not only had he found someone to complete him, but he was standing right next to him!  He had two best friends--three if Elodie was counted!--that would do absolutely anything for him and loved him more than…  Thomas couldn’t tell him that.  
         As he heard Guy-Man make a particularly loud slurping noise on his pickle, Thomas returned his attentions to the problem at hand rather than his thoughts.  Guy-Man had just created the king of all sandwiches; Thomas was more than certain that while it was twice what Guy-Man could comfortably fit inside of him he was going to take it all in in one wanton go.  “Oooowww”, “Whyyyy?”, “This hurrrrrts”, ugh, he could just hear it now.  After the momentary euphoria of a void having been filled waned there was nothing but anguish.  He needed to at least calm him enough to only eat half of it.  
         The pickle was gone in two crunches of Guy-Man’s teeth and the sandwich had been cut into two pieces.  The first half was already making its way into Guy-Man’s mouth as Thomas began, “It’s not like that at all, Guy.”  
         “Mmnph.” Guy-Man huffed through his food, the “crnch” of bread giving way under forceful teeth drowning out any other noise he made.  
         “I’m serious.”  
         “Mrnph, grmnd.” he brutally tore a piece of the sandwich away in his teeth, chewing as quickly as he could through the bulk and explosion of flavors.  
         “You aren’t alone!  You have plenty of people!”  
         The shorter man’s mouth came down on the bread again, “Mrf rrfrrf dmph drmrph?!” he rolled his eyes.  
         “Don’t be like that.  You really aren’t alone.”  
         A crunch and Guy-Man paused to masticate and swallow.  A third bite, “Ird mrffert mrrtrr.”  
         “It does matter.”  Thomas drew in nearer as Guy-Man had to take the food from his mouth to chew again.  “You’re surrounded by friends who love and trust you an--”  
         Guy-Man gave a harsh swallow, “I will never find _love_ Thomas!” he huffed, a conflicted expression coming across him as if he couldn’t pick between eating and talking more.  “You do!  Don’t talk to me about this.”  he immediately planted his face right back into his food.  “Mrrf nmph d’phmm.”  Thomas heard a sniffle.  
         Closing the rest of the space between them, the older man reached out and put a hand to his upper arm. “What I’m getting at _is_ the same.”  Seeing Guy-Man on the verge of tears set him off inside.  He needed to comfort him, he needed really let him know everything was okay…  “You _are_ married, Guy.”  
         “Mm?” The sandwich remained in his mouth, but the unhappy, younger man looked up to him.  In the very corners of his eyes sat tiny, infantile tears waiting for another rush of sadness to make them reach fruition.  
         “You did find someone.”  Thomas smiled, tightening his grip around Guy-Man’s arm, determined to thwart his depression.  “They love you more than anything else in the world.” he calmly informed, the mirthful wrinkles around his eyes betraying his internal reel of sweet cuddles and kisses with the man the Guy-Man would become in just over a decade.  “They dislike you sometimes.  When you’re stubborn on something stupid; when you’re occasionally thoughtless; when you ignore them; or when you talk into your food and force them to decipher what it is you’re trying to say.”  In spite of reminding himself of those annoying times, the times he wished he could just punch his friend, wished to have the right to make him cry or hurt--and the times he wished he didn’t love him as much as he did--the grin on his face widened.  “But they will always still be there for you.”  
         The conflicted light re-entering Guy-Man’s eyes, the man brought the sandwich away from his face.  Their eyes were still locked, neither knowing what else to say.  The shorter man licked his lips, lowering the food father as he let out a puff of air in thought.  He swallowed thickly, clearing his emotions from his choked voice and the bread sludge from his throat, “Thomas…”  
         The older man raised his eyebrows at him curiously, not wanting to speak for fear of cutting him off as he started.  
         “Are…  Are y--”  
         “Hey, I heard all the screaming from the bathroom, what happened?”  Nicole’s voice suddenly cut in, both Thomas and Guy-Man separating in a hurry.  Thomas’s hands situated themselves in his pockets as he casually turned to face the newcomer, Guy-Man’s icy impenetrable expression slid readily back into place with another bite of his food.  
         “Nothing.” Thomas replied as Guy-Man gave a likewise, albeit muffled, response through his lunch.  
         Drawing her eyebrows together, Nicole looked between them.  Her face screwed up into “I sense some bullshit” at the same time as it said “but there’s nothing I can do about it”.  In opposition to pursuing the two men who were unlikely to tell her anything they didn’t want to she turned her attentions elsewhere “If you get anything on that blouse, I will end you.” Nicole warned as she advanced on her soon-to-be boyfriend.  
         “Oh, really?”  Guy-Man quirked an eyebrow, taking significantly smaller bites than he had been.  
         “It’s a white shirt.” She told him, “And one of my favorites.”  
         Finding a spot where a pink combination of mayonnaise and ketchup was leaking from between the clenched buns, Guy-Man--seductively?--ran his tongue over it, staring her dead in the face.  Thomas had come to know that as the “I want to do sexual things to you as I try to eat” face and couldn’t help but feel mildly insulted that it had been pointed at someone else other than him.  
          _He doesn’t know yet, give him a pass._  He reminded himself, largely just happy that Guy-Man no-longer seemed to be sliding helplessly down into the abyss of self-loathing.  
         “Oh, it’s so big,” Guy-Man started again in a voice that went straight to Thomas’s groin.  “and so _full_.”  The man sniggered to his friend as she reached out to take the sandwich from him and he dodged.  “I-I think it might--whoopsie!”  
         “Guy-Manuel!” Nicole growled as a drop of pink fluid dripped from the backside of the sandwich and “plipped” on the tile floor.  She struck out for him again, the man narrowly avoiding her hands as he backed himself against the wall.  Not relenting, Nicole pressed her chest to him, pushing him firmly against the wall as she gritted her teeth up at him.  
         Guy-Man chuckled mildly at her, resting a hand on her hip…  Thomas heard Nicole breath out and turned his face away just as they both made forward motions for each other.  The smack of lips was all he needed to hear for the next couple of seconds to know how long to avert his eyes.  
         While he realized that he, in this time, was the wrong person for Guy-Man to pour his relieved emotions into, it didn’t stop him from wishing it was him.  Rather than stick around to be jealous, Thomas shuffled from the kitchen, leaving the two alone.  Locating his shirt on the mattress by the windows, he pulled it on and sat back down on the couch.  From around the corner,  Nicole squeaked and Guy-Man chuckled darkly to himself; oh, he didn’t need this.  
         “Oh…  Oh…”  Nicole sighed airily, “Guy-Man…”  Thomas felt like punching someone, “S-Stop, please…  You’re stretching out my shirt.”  
         Okay, that was worth a “snerk” noise from Thomas as he had to hold in a chuckle.  
         “How about I take it off?”  Guy-Man murmured.  
         “Please…”  Nicole begged, “I need to…  I need to…”  
         “What?”  Guy-Man’s voice reminded Thomas of chocolate and Nicole squeaked again.  
         “Go home.”  She told him.  Yeah, Thomas had to give this lady _some_ credit.  
         With some laughter, Thomas heard the two of them take off their shirts and switch them.  When they both came back into view for Thomas, Guy-Man was wearing his black polo and needless to say, the stretched blouse looked significantly more comfortable on the pixie-like Nicole.  The younger man in the room didn’t take his smiling eyes off her as she went to collect her things sitting on the table by the door.  
         Slipping her shoes on she moved over to Thomas, “Nice meeting you.”  
         “Same to you.”  Thomas answered as honestly as he could before the two traded kisses to the others’ cheeks.  
         “Bye, Guy-Man.” The two pressed their lips together before Nicole swaggered on out the door.  As soon as the latch clicked, however, there was a distinctly different feel to the room…  
         “Thomas,” Guy-Man scratched at the back of his neck, his fingers threading up into his stringy, brown locks.  
         “What’s up?”  If he wanted to talk about earlier, Thomas had no qualms, he also would’ve understood if things had gotten just a little too real for him to be comfortable with.  
         Turning his head to look in Thomas’s direction, albeit, not exactly at him, Guy-Man narrowed his eyes thoughtfully.  “do you want to go out today?”  
         Thomas shrugged, “I’ve already told you I have no money that would work.”  
         “It’s fine, I’ll pay.”  
         “We’ve already had this conversation.” Thomas made a “tsk” noise at Guy-Man’s ostensive poor memory.  
         “How often are _you_ going to be in town though?” the young man pointed out.  
         “I cannot argue with that.”  
         “I can draw on my savings if necessary.”  Guy-Man assured, “Obviously I make it through a couple of weeks without money if you’re anything to go by.” His lips turned up at the corners in a devilish smile.  Quickly though, he turned on his heels and went back into the kitchen.  Amongst the shuffling around of items into the sink, there was the sound of plastic wrap as well as the opening and closing of the refrigerator.  When Guy-Man reappeared to Thomas, what was left of the first half of his sandwich was hanging from his mouth.  
         “You always did have a talented mouth.” Thomas observed with humor.  
         Guy-Man squinted at him and removed the obstruction from his airway, “What did I tell you about the innuendos?”  
         “And…”  Thomas fluttered his eyelashes at him, “Why exactly should I listen?”  
         “Because I’ll ruin you.” Guy-Man threatened, not meaning to sound half as sensual as he did.  
         “I’m quaking in my sparkle-boots shorty.”  
         Momentarily thrown off, Guy-Man blinked, “What?”  
         “Ah, you haven’t seen those yet.” he reminded himself.  
         “Sparkle-boots?  What have we become?” Guy-Man laughed, “Fags?”  
         Thomas smirked at him.  
         “Don’t answer that question.” he continued to laugh, “Get your fucking shoes on so we can go already.”  The man gave Thomas a shove as he walked past him towards his room.  He took another bite out of his sandwich and looked over his shoulder at Thomas as he stood and stretched.  Yeah, it was definitely for the best that Thomas hadn’t answered that last one.

***

         The first order of business after leaving Guy-Man’s flat turned out to be hitting up Thomas’s old one.  There had been a small fight beforehand, however that went something like “Let’s go to my place.” from Thomas and Guy-Man asked “Why would we do that?” and Thomas was all “Because I need to change my clothes.” to which of course the burgeoning sass-master answered “Into what?  Your old pajamas?” and Thomas grumbled, “I haven’t gained _that_ much weight.”, meanwhile Guy-Man after a click of his tongue was all “Yeah, you have.” and so on came a slew of “nuh-uh!” and “Yeah-huh!” that lasted nearly until the two got to the flat.  
         “Give me the key already.” Thomas grunted, tired of their childish back and forth.  Guy-Man, of course, readily supplied the spare key Thomas had gifted him.  
         Upon first step into Thomas’s flat, the older man felt a sudden wave of nostalgia for the person he had once been.  There were a few things he could’ve done without, however…  Like the knowledge that he sometimes went weeks without doing laundry and so the flat smelled a lot like a dirty clothes pile.  
         “I’ll be surprised if you find anything that fits.”  Guy-Man snarked, “Go do what you have to, I have to water your plants anyway.”  
         As Thomas walked off towards his room, he found Guy-Man’s admission peculiar…  He was _pretty_ sure that all of his plants had been dead upon his arrival back home.  Or close to dead anyway because they had had a small, comical fight about it.  Of course, it was always possible that Guy-Man had only watered them in the beginning and this was the _only_ time it was going to happen.  Internally he laughed at himself _Never thought I’d be the actual reason for the deaths of so many houseplants._

  
         “Well, what do you think?”  
         Guy-Man lifted his head from the magazine he was reading on Thomas’s kitchen table.  He stared, expressionless as he tried to formulate what he wanted to say.  All that came out was, “Thomas Bangalter, change your fucking shirt.”  
         “Avocado not my color anymore?”  Thomas joked, popping the collar of his shirt.  
         “Do that one more time and I’ll have to disown you, old man.”  Guy-Manuel took a drag on his new cigarette.  
         Meticulously, Thomas folded the collar of the shirt back down the way it went.  
         “You still need to change.” the smoking man flicked his wrist.  
         For a second time, the collar was popped.  
         “I’m leaving.” Guy-Man stood and made a break for the door.  
         “Wait!”  Thomas yelped, chasing after him.  
  


         “What about this?”  
         “Fatass.”  
         “Merde!”

  
         “Guy-Man?”  Thomas stepped out of his room and looked around, “Where are…”  The door was open.  Rushing out the door he heard the other man’s descending footsteps as he left the building.  “Get back here!”  
         “Make me!”  
         Well, this was only going to end one way.

  
         Finally leaving his room in a pair of dark jeans and a loose-fitting plaid shirt, Thomas put his hands on his hips, “Do I look 2001 trend-backwards yet?”  
         “You look fine.”  Guy-Man scoffed, fidgeting with his lips.  
         “Good.”  Thomas wandered into his kitchen and looked around, he was beginning to feel hungry again and wondered if he had stupidly left anything in the fridge before leaving for vacation.  
         “Hey!  Un-tape my arms, dammit!”  Guy-Man stood and tried to shuffle after him, but found that to be a wholly terrible experience as his ankles were likewise duct-taped together.  He wobbled to and fro before successfully landing back on his butt on the couch.  
         “Oh, sorry.  I forgot.” Thomas excused, coming back into the room, a knife in his hand.  
         “Uh… What are you going to do with that?”  Guy-man swallowed, urging himself to move away from the man with a knife, but staying frozen to his spot.  Being bound with his arms behind his back and his ankles together didn’t bode well if someone had a knife…  This was Thomas though…  Yeah…  He could deal with it, he guessed.  
         “Calm down, I’ve done this plenty of times before.”  Thomas dismissed, putting a strong, but soft hand on his shoulder, “Lay on your stomach.”  
         As Guy-Man did as asked, he took a deep breath, he wondered at what type of person this Thomas was if this was something he had done “plenty” of times…  He suppressed a small, surprised noise from his throat as Thomas moved to straddle him on his knees upon the couch.  All the same, as Thomas rested a little of his weight onto Guy-Man’s backside to cut open the tape, it squeezed out.  “Uhn…”  
        Thomas pretended not to hear the noise, but his groin wasn’t so keen on that, which was quite inconvenient given that his pants were so tight already.  Feeling his face flush with embarrassment, he cut a quick line down the center of the tape that encased Guy-Man’s arms.  He cleared his throat and spoke as clearly as he could muster, “Take a deep breath and breathe out when I say so.”  
         “Okay…”  Guy-Man inhaled as deeply as he could.  
         “And out.” As the man beneath him released his breath, Thomas ripped _all_ tape off at once.  
         “ **Fffffuuuuuuck**!”  
         Thomas laughed wickedly in a moment of self-indulgence, patting Guy-Man’s fluffy hair.  He let Guy-Man’s unbound hands flop to his sides and rest as the man beneath him tested his shoulders.  
         “I think you just ripped all my arm hair off!”  Tears pricked at the edges of Guy-Man’s sight and Thomas kept chuckling, his fingers going from a casual patting to carding through his locks.  Putting his arms under himself, he propped himself up on his elbows, looking at the red marks left by the tight tape.  
         “You’ll be fine.” Thomas reassured, having not yet realized he was playing with his beloved’s hair.  It was just a habit of his when looking down at him like this.  
         “Are you…  Are you going to do my legs any time soon?”  
         “Oh, uh, right, yeah.”  Thomas quickly climbed off him, trying to readjust the hardness in his pants to a less conspicuous position as he moved.  He waited for Guy-Man to change his posture as well before kneeling down before him to get at the tape.  This time he paid more attention to what he was doing, because if he hadn’t been he would’ve done the usual resting his chin on Guy-Man’s knees; he might have been balding, but he could still solicit some hands being dragged through what was left of it.  Anyway…  A few slashes from the knife and he took the rest of the tape from Guy-Man’s body.  
         “You’re such a freak.” Guy-Man commented, in a stark, insincere way.  
          _You are too._ was almost what Thomas replied with, but instead he just said “Yeah, I know.”  
         “Can we leave now?”  The shorter man rolled his shoulders and cracked his fingers.  
         “Yeah, yeah.  We just need to come back here sometime so I can clean up the mess I made and get my real clothes…”  
         “We can crash here tonight after the show then.”  Guy-Man grinned, starting for the door.  
         “Show?!  What show?!”  Thomas tagged after him, only slightly aware of the buzz in his back pocket.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've been silent for the whole of this story so far, but thank you for all the comments and kudos! It really keeps me going everybody :)

         “To be honest, I don’t know, Thomas.”  Guy-Man’s voicemail began, “The whole idea of our relationship is quite…” he paused to edit his own words, “I can’t say much, I wouldn’t want to impact anything either.  I didn’t think to tell Remy because,” there was the sound over the phone of Guy-Man shrugging, “you know how _she_ gets when it comes to you…  I still gave them a call, to check-in since you asked, Remy says he loves you too.  I’m hoping she won’t question my visiting without you in the next few days.  I have a lot to do today, I’ll call again later.”

  
         “Why the fuck are you never here when I need you to deal with blazing idiots?”  Guy-Manuel scoffed, “I understand it’s hard to take this situation seriously, but why not just assume I’m a celebrity gone crazy with money and fame and humor me? …  Damn it.”  the man on the other end of the message took some time to cool off with a bit of deep breathing he had learned from his spouse.  “I still haven’t found anyone willing to explain what happened…  I already know how long you’ll be there for; I can’t be looking for too much longer.  I need to sleep now, though.”  


         “I…  I” Guy-Man hiccuped, “I’m worried, Thomas.” he paused for a rather significant amount of time to breath and groan into the receiver, “I shouldn…   _Shouldn’t be_ , I know, b-because I know what’s gonna…  gon…  Ugh.  You get it.”  for a few seconds there was the wet gurgling of liquid leaving a large, glass bottle.  “Euh…  What if you don’t come back?” another couple of seconds of gurgling, “I guess _she_ would at least be happy, yeah?” A pause, just a pause…  “I miss you…  Fuck, I’m pathetic.”

  
         Waking up to five missed calls and three new messages was not what Thomas had been expecting.  The hangover, maybe, yeah, he had been expecting that.  Not remembering exactly what had happened last night was also something he had been expecting.  And while he _should not_ have been expecting Guy-Man to be laying next to him, as he turned over, he was still disappointed to find out that he wasn’t there.  
         With a grunt and a heaving stomach, he plucked his phone up off the bedside table where it sat charging.  By the flashing light on it, he knew he at least had _something_ to be excited about.  With blurry eyes, he keyed in his voicemail password and listened to the messages.  
          _If you think you’re pathetic, get a load of me._  Thomas thought as he sat up and rubbed his eyes.  He didn’t like that Guy-Man had taken to some heavy drinking in his absence, but what was he going to do?  Tell him “Stop that”?  Was he going to tell him “Stop worry about something that’s completely logical to be worried about”?  Of course not…  At the very most he would tell him “Everything’s going to be fine”.  He didn’t want to make any promises though.  
         “You’ve reached Thomas Bangalter, still in 2001, I can receive voicemails.  Get back to you when I’m in 2014 again.  Guy-Manuel, thank you for all you’re doing.” He clicked save and put the phone aside to clear the crust from his eyes.  Taking a deep breath and sighing, he noted the smell of fresh smoke.  
         “You’re welcome, in advance.”  
         Surprised by the voice, Thomas jumped in bed, nearly falling out of it to the messy floor below, “You’ve never been this creepy before.” he groggily commented to his friend leaning in the doorway to his room  
         “And you’ve never been this ugly before.”  Guy-Man rebutted with a puff off his cigarette.  
         “Ouch.”  
         Guy-Man shrugged, “Trim your beard, maybe I’ll reconsider.”  
         Thomas reached up and scratched the ever-growing mass of hair.  Yeah, it had been a few days since he trimmed it; it was far past any length he ever kept it at.  
         “I don’t know about 2014, but wearing dead animals is really out of style right now.” the shorter man “informed” with a smirk curving his lips.  
         “Mn.” Thomas succinctly answered, lost in thought about trimming his facefur without leaving traces in a sink or otherwise.  
         Meanwhile, seeing Thomas’s downcast eyes and otherwise silence, the smirk dropped off Guy-Man’s face with unease “Come on, Bangalter, you’re really so concerned I called you ugly?  Pssh, as if I was serious.”  
         Surprised out of his contemplations, Thomas raised his face curiously, “What?”  
         “I thought I’d upset you…”  
         “You’ve said a lot worse.” the older man excused with a smile, stroking the longer hairs on his face.   _And you never mean any of those things either._  
         “I have?”  Guy-Man incredulously questioned as Thomas, still fully clothed from the prior day, left bed and stretched his beanpole body.  “We never _really_ fight…” A look of genuine concern for their future friendship creased his brow.  
         “No, but you can’t resist insults during a good wrestling match.” he let out a noise of amusement, it came again, longer, louder, it was easier to describe this noise as laughter at the slack-jawed expression on his friend’s face.  
         “W-W…  Fucking _what_?”  Even knowing better, the other man in the room still would’ve said Guy-Man appeared to be blushing.  
         Thomas’s laughter intensified.  
         “You’re joking?”  
         If by “joking” Guy-Man meant “using an appropriate metaphor for sex” sure…  “Yeah.”  Thomas of course, responded with instead.  
         “I _don’t_ need to imagine two middle-aged douchebags wrestling in their living room.” Guy-Man defended what little of his personal dignity he had left.  He closed his eyes and took a casual, long drag off his cigarette, turning his nose up towards the ceiling as he let the smoke go.  “Gross.” he punctuated, opening one eye to view Thomas, who hadn’t responded verbally in any way.   He jumped back in surprise, however, seeing that Thomas had advanced upon him and stood less than a meter away, “Do you remember when I talked to you about my personal, bubble?” Guy-Man snorted.  
         “Yeah…  Was about…  We hadn’t even left school yet.” Thomas made a show of thought as he scratched  his balding crown with one hand and stroked his beard with the other.  “And I know I’ve done this _since_ then.”  
         “Done wh--Uh!?”  Guy-Man couldn’t finish his sentence as Thomas bent down, wrapped his arms around him and lifted him from the floor.  “Down!  Down!  You know I hate this!” Guy-Man tried to flail, but simultaneously, he didn’t feel like punching Thomas.  So, given that “fight” response wasn’t working and “flight” was just not an option, he took the safe route and compulsively tightened his grip around Thomas, wrapping his legs around him as well.  
         Hearing Thomas’s calm chuckle by his ear, he tried not to find it as soothing as it was.  Thomas’s chuckle of “I’m done” or “You’re good, I was just playin’.”  Even knowing that Thomas was more than willing to let go, he remained attached to his front, eyes squeezed shut.  At least he was warm and his arms felt nice around him, he didn’t really so much _mind_ being picked up, he just didn’t like the dangling helplessly feeling.  This was fine, though.  He felt his legs around Thomas’s insufficient backside slip a little and in a second of near-panic, he climbed back up his friend, locking his legs around his waist with an “oof!” from the living sliding-pole.  With his face now nestled into the crook of Thomas’s neck and shoulder, he realized that his friend didn’t really smell particularly good that morning.  The smell of cigarettes, booze and sweat was not flattering on him, granted, it wasn’t flattering on anybody, but Guy-Man felt his position comfortable enough not to care.  
         The taller man stumbled forward a little, but had a good humor in his voice when he spoke, “Need help getting down?”  The beanpole offered, feeling him, rather than seeing him respond with a rapid, frantic nodding.  He bent forward a little, “Let go with your legs.” He instructed, Guy-Man doing so, his toes readily meeting the floor, “You’re good.”  The shorter man released the rest of his body and he returned to his average, upright position.  
         “I hate you.”  Guy-Man huffed, taking his cigarette out of his mouth and grinding it out into the ashtray that sat on the chest of draws at his hip.  
         “I hate you too.” the other replied jovially enough to get his real meaning across with any other company, but he had to remind himself of how insecure Guy-Man tended to get as his current age.  
         “That’s just something we say to each other, right…?”  The younger man checked for good measure.  He was pretty sure that Thomas didn’t mean it, but he didn’t know what the future held.  Even if every last one of the peculiar things Thomas had said and done in his presence pointed to an exact opposite outcome, he never could be too sure.  
         “Sometimes, if we make each other mad and…”  Thomas pursed his lips, cursing his inability to express himself.  
         “And what?”  
         “And nothing.”  
         “No, you trailed off.”  
         “I trail off a lot and you never ask ‘what’ or ‘why’.”  Thomas pointed out.  
         “I felt like it was important.”  
         “You felt wrong this time.  Nothing important.”   _Nothing at all…_  
         “Thomas, you may have all the infinite wisdom of a man on the other side of his midlife crisis, but you’re still dopey, emotionally inarticulate Thomas Bangalter.”  Guy-Man crossed his arms over his chest and blew a puff of air up at a lock of hair that fell unintentionally into his face.  
         “You just called me inarticulate, I think that covers what that was.”  
         “Articulate it.”  Guy-Man ordered.  
         “Why are you suddenly latching on?” Thomas pushed him firmly but not unkindly from his way as he went for the shower.  
         “Because I want to know.”  
         “This particular thing?”  Thomas chuckled, paying no mind to how Guy-Man turned to follow him through the flat.  
         “Yes because there’s something _else_ I want to know.”  
         Thomas’s breath caught in his throat.  He knew he had been obvious but--oh, who was he kidding?  The last two times this shit had happened it turned out that Guy-Man either didn’t _really_ want to know or he had come up with some other bogus explanation.  “And _why_ would you want to know that?” Thomas humored him with a long-suffering sigh.  
         “Because you look at me different, because you said you’re married and I live with you and you do stupid things like…”  Guy-Man cut himself off, unsure of where he wanted to be going with that.  He was sure he could be happier without the answer that he was pretty sure he already knew, but…  
         Thomas froze on his way into the bathroom; he sucked his tongue and tried to find a way to diffuse the situation, but couldn’t think of anything fast enough.  “I do stupid things like what?”  
         “You do stupid things like tell me that I find someone who loves me and knows all my habits like the back of their hand while you’re…”  Guy-Man made a half-disgusted face that Thomas couldn’t see at his back, “You’re staring at me like you’ve found a  room full of keyboards and you get to play with _all_ of them.”  It was a stupid similie, he knew, but it was fitting in the moment.  
         “ _Soooo_ …?” Thomas questioned, peering behind him at the conflicted young man.  
         Guy-Man averted his eyes to the floor, reaching for his back pocket to find another cigarette, only to discover that the pack was empty.  He cursed his comfort dependency on the small items and just muttered towards the floor, “I-I don’t think that I mind…”  
         “Hold that thought.” Thomas told him, walking the rest of the way into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.  
         “Thomas!”  Guy-Man was partially outraged that he was about to say something and Thomas had just walked away and he was partially grateful for the door between them.  He hated it when he blushed, nobody needed to see that.  
         “I’ll talk to you when I’m done!”  Thomas told him through the door, the sound of the shower starting.  
         “Why not just tell me now?”  Guy-Man leaned on the bathroom door, “I just need a yes or no…”  
         At first, the only sounds from behind the door were the same the “fsssh” of the shower and the whir of the steam fan.  After a bit of waiting, the sound of the shower curtain being pulled back met Guy-Man’s ears and he assumed he was not going to get to even ask his question.  
         “What do want?”  Thomas asked, his voice weary.  
         “Are we…”  Guy-Man chuckled in spite of himself, this was probably the stupidest question he had ever asked to date.  “Are we married, Thomas?”  
         Guy-Man heard the shower curtain be pulled back to and the sound of water hitting a body before dropping to the floor, Thomas’s voice came again, “I already told you, we’re both married!”  
         “No, no…  I mean…  Are we married to,” Guy-Man scoffed at himself, muttering under his breath “This is fucking ridiculous.” before finishing his question, “Are we married to _each other_?”  
         There was no response.  None for about five minutes anyway.  
         “I know you heard me.”  Guy-Man asserted, having long pressed his back to the door and sank down to sit cross-legged on the floor.  The squeak of the shower being turned off met him and there was the ruffle of a towel.  As he heard footsteps coming to the door, he tried in vain to stand up quickly; in the end, all that happened as the door swung inward was he fell backwards at Thomas’s bare feet, staring up at the towel that encircled his bony hips.  He felt his face flush as Thomas observed him from above, his lips pressed together in a line rather than dopily hanging open.  His beard was shorter and better-kempt, the mole on his right cheek barely peeked out of the shortened mass and he looked slightly less homeless.  
         “Get up.” Thomas sighed, motioning with his hand, too hungover and tired to contemplate how embarrassing this situation was.  Guy-Man, of course, scrambled readily to his feet, his mouth seeming to be welded shut as he smoothed down his clothes and waited for Thomas’s answer.  “Can I at least get dressed first?”  He questioned gesturing to his general fuzzy, nakedness.  
         “Yes or no?”  Guy-Man stubbornly demanded, his arms never more tightly crossed around himself.  
         “Y-Yes…”  Thomas finally confirmed, watching as Guy-Man’s eyes widened to the size of grapefruits.  
         “Oh…”  The younger one’s mouth didn’t completely close, rather it hung open as his eyebrows knitted themselves together in confusion and his eyes couldn’t pick one place to settle upon.  He thought maybe looking at Thomas would provide some consolation, but there was nothing, just more uncertainty and awkwardness.  “Oh…”  He said again.  “Oh.”  Not looking at his friend, he walked away, leaving Thomas to watch his shuffling flee to the kitchen.  
          _Great._

  
         “Am I successfully avoiding looking like a sausage about to pop?” Thomas questioned more cheerily than he was feeling as he entered the kitchen.  Guy-Man, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, appeared to be smoking the remains of a half-done cigarette from the full ashtray.  On the one hand, that was disgusting, on another, he at least knew he could offer to buy him a pack of cigarettes to make up for this befuddling situation.  
         “You look fine.”  Guy-Man flatly responded, not giving him more than a glance from the corner of his eye.  “I have stuff to get done today…”  Was his way of seguing into more comfortable topics “See Mom, grocery shopping.”  he went on to elaborate uneasily.  “Maybe you can just stay here today.”  
         Dragging his feet over to Guy-Man, Thomas put his hand on his shoulder, not surprised, but still hurt all the same when he flinched away from the contact.  Obviously, that hand was much better served in his pocket.  
         “Do you not want to talk about this?” Thomas licked his lips, realizing how badly he needed a cigarette.  Guy-Man was so bad for his health, he playfully mused.  
         “Are we _actually_ married, or is that just the word you’re using?”  Guy-Man still wouldn’t look at him, but that was okay, Thomas decided.  It wouldn’t have changed anything, by the man’s flat tone of voice he was in his defensive mode.  Emotions wouldn’t be on his face, tact was an unheard of thing.  
         “Where we live, it’s legal for us to be married.”  Thomas explained, pulling out a chair at the table to sit down.  
         “How progressive.”  
         It is California.  Thomas reflected wryly.  “Right now it’s only in select places in the country, we happen to live in one of them.”  
         “Did we just get bored?  Say ‘fuck it’ to women and marry each other out of convenience?” there was bitterness in Guy-Man’s tone.  
         “No…  Our marriage was anything but convenient.”  
         Guy-Man snorted, “Which of us wore the dress?”  
         “We didn’t have a ceremony.”  Come to think of it, their marriage hadn’t even felt like the joyous occasion that it was.  They had both been cohabiting for some time and so when Guy-Man appeared one day with the paperwork, grumbling “Sign it” as if it was the most inconvenient thing ever, Thomas thought nothing of it.  Nothing had changed, just everything legal suddenly mattered.  Their rings weren’t even anything particularly amazing; Thomas’s eyes flicked down to the flat, silver band, running his finger over it.  Guy-Man’s was gold, actually, the only proof of them being part of a set being that their details were exactly identical.  Like with many things between them, they wanted a marriage defined by how they felt, not by spectacle.  
         “So, we married for money and legal reasons?”  Guy-Man dug further and Thomas chuckled.  
         “Does that really sound like either of us?”  
         “No, I just find it hard to believe that I fall in love with you.” he shrugged.  
         Smirking fondly, Thomas looked up from his precious wedding band, “I found it hard to believe too.”  
         “So, we actually…”  Finally looking to him for the first time since their conversation began, he had to suppress some serious stuttering, “W-We’re actually, uh…”  
         “We’re happy together.” Thomas assured, reaching out to place a hand on Guy-Man’s thigh.  For a fraction of a second he saw an expression of “Oh fuck no!” on his face before it melted away into hot reddening of his cheeks.  There was some stuttering and jerking hand movements as if Guy-Man didn’t know whether to lay his hand on top of Thomas’s, throw it off or just leave it sit there.  “Are you uncomfortable yet?”  
         “Very.” he tried to insert some laughter into his words, but all that came out was crystalline discomfiture.  
         Chortling very lightly, Thomas took his hand back and steepled his fingers in his lap, “Go ahead and do what you need to do; I get it.  I can entertain myself somehow.”  
         “How are you dealing with me…?”  Guy-Man asked instead of standing at first.  
         “I…  What?”  
         “I’ve not been exactly what you’re used to.” he explained, “Does that bother you?”  
         Thomas rolled his eyes at the same time as he felt his stomach do the same thing, he was probably going to throw up after much longer if he didn’t get something greasy inside of him.  Or at least some water.  “No more or less than how you used to bother me.” he replied honestly, “I don’t expect anything of you, you’re not there yet and I can’t expect you to be.”  
         “O-Oh…”  
         “If I remember right…  It’s you who has to wait for _me_.” his usual wide smile split his lips and Guy-Man found himself staring as if he had never seen it before.  “You initiated things that first time…”  
         “W-What were--are we…  What did I do?”  
         The smile became a grin and Thomas’s eyes seemed far off as he leaned back in his kitchen chair, “You asked me if I had any regrets, acting like I was about to go off to war,”   _I guess marriage can be something like that…_  “rather than just committing myself to something that would make me happy.”  
         “A-And?”  
         “And I said ‘no’.  Only at first, because we drank some more, and you asked me again ‘are you sure?’...  And I said ‘I never tried anything with a guy’.  I stuttered a lot.” Thomas laughed, “And you--” he paused to bite and suck on his lip as if trying to re-create the sensation in his head, “You just…  You kissed me.” his tongue flicked out, wetting the bitten area on his plump lower lip, “You bit me as if getting back at me for something.  And I pushed you away,” it didn’t even occur to Thomas that this was quite a good deal more than what he was supposed to be saying.  However, he was caught up in his memories, not thinking of anything else other than that first blissful night.  “We laughed and you did it again.  I pushed you away again and told you ‘stop joking around’ and you just shook your head, your eyes…” he sighed, “You said ‘I’m not joking’.” His eyes slipped closed, a peaceful smile on his lips as he remembered their hands touching everywhere, their lips, gliding over one another and clutching at each other’s skin…  “But we both had girlfriends.” he peeled his lids up.  
         “A-Ah…”  Somewhere in the middle of the story, Guy-Man felt his heart flutter the tiniest bit, his face was doing an impression of an apple.  Something about Thomas’s voice struck deep inside of him, maybe the happiness in it was palpable, or it was how much he obviously cherished every minute of it, it wasn’t something he had taken lightly.  When was the last time he had heard someone talk so reverently about a first time with someone?  A first time that didn’t even end with “And we fucked” and they were still so caught up in their memories of it?  
         “If you’re going to head out, I’m going to go back to bed.” Thomas stood with a yawn, surprising Guy-Man out of his introspection.  He stretched in that specifically Thomas way that popped his shoulders and made his fingers brush the ceiling tiles.  “I hate to be a bother, but I have nothing else to do and no one else to see here, all things considered.” he pointed out, crossing his arms up over his shoulders.  “You can come back and get me tomorrow, if you aren’t busy.”  
         Watching him from where he sat, Guy-Man realized there was something else he wanted to ask, but it just didn’t come out right.  It came out as “Do you want your key?”  
         “Nah, keep it, I’m not going anywhere.  Do what you always do, let yourself in whenever.” Thomas gave him a wave, “Catch you later.” and retreated from the kitchen to his room.  
         Guy-Man released an incredulous breath as his heart did acrobatics in his chest.  “Fuck you, Thomas.” he muttered before standing and heading to the door to leave.

***

         “Guillaume, are you feeling okay?” Guy-Man’s mother asked asked as he sprang up from the kitchen table to search the family’s fridge for something else to eat.  His brother wasn’t in that day, thankfully, so he could avoid some ridicule there at least.  
         “Yeah, I’m good.”  After some searching, he settled upon a carton of ice cream, some cherries, a banana, fudge sauce, strawberries and he grabbed a bag of crushed pistachios from the cabinet above the stove.  
         “You say that, but you don’t even like sweet things.” She doubted, crossing her legs.  
         “I do sometimes.” Guy-Man excused, spooning some vanilla ice cream into a bowl.  
         “When you’re _upset_.”  
         “Upset?  What do _I_ have to be upset about?  I just released a new album, Thomas and I are making some money; we’re supposed to fly out in a couple of days to do some photoshoots and--”  
         “You also get defensive when you’re upset.”  
         Guy-Manuel dropped the strawberries into the bowl, poured the cherries, pushed some fudge sauce out of it’s jar and dusted it all with pistachios.  He pointedly ignored his mother’s attempts at ascertaining his bad mood all the while.  As he stared at his concoction and stabbed his spoon down into it, he remembered that he forgot the banana and just peeled it, shoving it into his mouth, halfway down his throat.  
       Good Denise, meanwhile wrinkled her divine face with worry, she was hoping for today to be an uneventful visit.  Or just, not eventful in this kind of way, “Are you dating anyone?” she tried to steer things in a more comfortable direction.  
         “Mrrf mmrrn nrrrm.”  Guy-Man responded past the banana as he bit down through it.  
         “Not right now?” She nodded, “Please be careful, you don’t need to choke, Guillaume.”  
         “I won’t.” the man spoke through chewed banana.  Sometimes Denise wondered if she had never enforced enough with him growing up not to speak with his mouth full.  Paul never did anything like that, but Paul’s moods were also not mollified by consumption of food either.  “I might be a little upset, but I’m fine.  I’m handling it.” Guy-Man was finally honest.  
         “Clearly.” Denise responded, her eyes not leaving the bowl of ice cream that was fast disappearing.  
         “Are you going to berate me too, now?”  
         “I never said anything, I’m just concerned.”  
         Guy-Man muttered to himself over his dess-unch, accepting that he was perhaps being a bit too terse with his mother.  His conversation with Thomas, old Thomas, of course, had put him in an indiscernible mood.  His own present-day Thomas had called him and left a few messages about his vacation and Guy-Man realized what a blessing normalcy was.  Thomas had called him drunk, talking about a girl he had met, he called her pretty and he was just as inarticulate as ever.  There was “Yo, man” and “some real good shit” and “totally wack” in his sentences at times; it comforted him a great deal, but at the same time, he knew some day that would change.  He was going to grow into the man that had been staying with him…  And they would…  
         “Sweetie… You can’t eat the bowl too.” Denise intervened before Guy-Man’s spoon cracked the bottom of the bowl.  
         “Sorry.” Guy-Man dropped the spoon into the bowl, bringing his thumbnail up to his lips to nibble on it.  
         “Have you talked to Thomas since he left for vacation?”  
         “Yeah, he’s having fun.” Guy-Man shrugged, “Gets wicked wasted even with his folks.” he laughed.  
         “As if you’ve never done the same with us.”  She pointed out with a good-natured smile.  
         “Uh, yeah, whatever.” he waved her off and stood, he had been there for a few hours and he still needed to find something else to do before going back to Thomas…  At least he could say the man wasn’t pressuring him for anything.  No pressure to perform--in any sense--and no pressure to even pay attention to him.  Which, even through all the stress he still caused in other areas, Guy-Man was extremely grateful for.   _He’s Thomas, though._  He reminded himself, _You know the last thing he wants to do is make you do something you don’t want to._  Gazing out the window of his mother’s kitchen, however, he suddenly asked himself _What_ do _I want to do?_  
         Little did he know, that as he said his goodbyes to his mother, that he was going to be asking himself that exact same thing for three more days.


	8. Chapter 8

         “You have: Nine missed calls.”  
         “You have:  Five unheard messages.”  
         “First unheard message.”  
        “I finally got someone to listen.” Guy-Manuel huffed, the sound of rolling eyes in his voice.  “And I only got two words out of it, _time_ motherfuckin’ _slip_.”  he let out a relieved chuckle, “Not some bogus _Rocky Horror_ shit, but a real time slip.  I’ll let you know more as I know it, but this is at least a step in the right direction.”

  
         “Second unheard message.”  
         “Thomas, it’s Elle, Guy-Man can’t seem to make up his mind whether or not to call you, so I’m doing it for him”  
         “Hang up the phone!”  A familiar, deep voice echoed away from the receiver.  Some sounds of a civil scuffle followed and melodic laughter.  “Elodie!”  
         “He wants to tell you he’s sorry for drinking _all_ of your crystal skull tequila.”  She giggled.  
         “I didn’t drink it all, fuck.”  
         “And a whole bag of reeses cups!”  
         “The kids had some!”  he seemed to whine.  
         “And we both love you a lot.”  
          “Ugh, you’re hopeless, woman.”  
         “End of message.”

  
         Guy-Man was no fool, the smile Thomas had every time he put that phone to his ear, he knew who it was for.  Being honest, he wasn’t sure if it disgusted him or if it made that hard place inside his chest melt.  He could contemplate the way Thomas’s eyes crinkled and his lips peeled back into his goofy grin and compare it to the way his Thomas did much the same without growing bored.  That smile was not pointed at him yet…  Wistfully, he imagined the younger, dorky, tall man turning his less-experienced crooked grin his way.  
          _Oh…_  He internalized the feeling and was suddenly jealous of the Spanish girl in Mazarrón who had surely seen it pointed at her.  Wanting nothing more than to have a distraction from the feelings he wasn’t sure if he could entirely comprehend yet, he looked to his own phone as old Thomas continued to listen to his voicemails that had piled up over the last half-week.  
         No, Thomas hadn’t left him a message in those days.  He hadn’t even called him.  With a disappointed noise, he turned his contempt to his future self, _What kind of an idiot calls three times a day?  I must be so pathetic._

  
          “Third unheard message.”  
          “ _Daaaddyyyy_!  I miss you!  Come home sooooon.  Papa has been sad and Mama too.” A little girl’s voice.  
         “Very sad!” A second voice, still high, but a boy’s.  “And Luc’s been mean…”  
         “Elise, Trevor?  Who are you talking to?”  Guy-Manuel called somewhere away from the speaker, “Give me my phone back.”  
         “I love you, Daddy!”  
         “End of message.”

  
         That hand over his mouth…  What did that mean?  Moreover, Thomas was mouthing something underneath the masking fingers.  The sadness that reflected down towards the floorboards of his apartment tore at his heart.  Guy-Man made a “tsk” noise as he pulled out a cigarette and sat on his couch; Thomas always had been so expressive in his face.

  
         “Fourth unheard message.”  
         “Okay, there were a lot of fucking words that I didn’t completely understand back there, so I’ll try to put it as simply as I can; listen up.” Guy-Manuel’s voice started, “This time slip thing, according to whats-his-face, is caused because of the cyclical nature of time.  He also called it ‘wibbly-wobbly’ and that motherfucker makes my English look downright eloquent.  The point though, he says that because time does not run in a straight line--fucking…  What?--that sometimes it crosses over itself too closely or it outright runs into itself.  The kind of time slip you’re in is the kind where it hits itself.  What happens is people who are susceptible to it--like I fucking know what criteria it goes off of for this--fall through the momentarily removed barriers between time.”  he was silent for a second, needing time to arrange his thoughts.  “Imagine a circular on and off ramp for a highway…  You get it?  Of course you do.  Though, because time is a very, very _big_ continuum even the tiniest of contacts made between streams can last for anywhere between minutes to months.  Normally, as long as the people who have fallen through remain in the general area of the place they entered the alternate time through, when the streams diverge again, everyone ends up in their correct time--yeah, believe it or not, you’re probably not the only one in Paris to be experiencing this exact problem.  
         The guy said that since the two streams are currently still touching, it’s likely that’s why you can receive phone messages, the waves being able to travel through the weak barriers between times.”  Guy-Manuel cleared his throat, “Here’s the problem with the returning to the correct time though, it’s difficult to calculate exactly how long a time slip can continue to occur--this is where he used ‘wibbly-wobbly’--because the stream is unpredictable.  So, this means it could happen at any time for you and if you’re in a building that has been since leveled in our time and you’re on like… the fifth floor?  You’re falling five stories down once you re-enter this time.  You can also end up inside of a wall or in front of a moving car…  Or, awkwardly, in bed with someone strange in their home.  We’ll talk more about that later, though.  I have to fly out to the guy tomorrow to have a more in-depth conversation about all this; Auri is going to be pissed, I have to cancel, but I don’t give a shit.”  
         “End of message.”

  
         As Thomas listened to the particularly lengthy recording, Guy-Man raised an eyebrow.  He could hear someone grumbling curses and speaking ill of some person or other.  It was weird, knowing it was himself.  Finding out that he was going to be speaking those exact same words one day that Thomas was listening to with such grave concentration.  The way his plump lips hung slightly open and the way his eyes narrowed as his eyebrows pulled down to create a tic between them…  Guy-Man smiled behind the cigarette-crutch in his mouth.  He loved that face, if he was straight-up with himself.  That face made great music, that face made heart-felt, albeit still burnt, meals for the two of them and friends and it also created confidence in Guy-Man.  At least _someone_ was listening.  Someone who always had an easier time grasping the logic of a situation; as well as someone who could easily reword what he had just assessed into a simple, concise idea.  Except if it was something he was incredibly excited about, because _then_ while the thought might have been concise, the stuttering and murmurs of “wow” or “wicked” or “sweet” lengthened the explanation by a good twenty syllables.  
         He wanted to see older Thomas talk about something that excited him…  He needed that confirmation that nothing in that department had changed.  It set into him, however, that he didn’t know what older Thomas could have interests in.  Sure, they could talk about old things, but what about what Thomas lusted after now?  What films had he seen that fired him up, what new _music_ had he listened to, what new skill was he trying to master?  Had he taken up painting?  Had Thomas ever improved his handwriting…?  
         His smile waned, he knew so little.

  
         “Fifth unheard message.”  
         “Thomas, it’s Auri.” The last message began, Thomas giving a visible wince as the fierce, bell-like voice began to chime in his ear, “I don’t know what your ludicrous voicemail message means and I don’t really even care.  It’s one thing that you took my husband from me; another that my children call you ‘Daddy’; but I’m going to draw the line here.  You do not fucking have the right to come between what few visits Guy-Manuel will give me!  I have agreed thus far to be civil because he loves you and the kids, but I _know_ you had something to do with this!  I love him and it’s insult to injury that you come between even us having simple dinner dates.  We don’t even screw, you know that I don’t even…” Aurelia paused, collecting her breath, “I don’t even _compete_ , with you…”  She growled into the phone “I know that you would love to cut me out of your life because I’m not your simple, _complacent_ , **perfect** Elle!”  Thomas drew the phone away from his ear, a deep, brooding sadness etched into his aged features.  He considered skipping the message, this was territory he would’ve rather avoided…  Steeling his nerves though, he still brought the phone back to his ear.  “I will not ever go away.  You can try, you can just _try_ to eliminate me, but I’m not going anywhere.  Remy and Luc are mine, they’re more mine than they’ll ever be yours.  I’m sorry I can’t be a part of your happy, bastardized idea of a family and if you breathe a word of this message to Guy-Manuel then I will make your life a living hell, Bangalter.”  
         “End of message.”  
         “You have:  No unheard messages.”

  
         Guy-Man didn’t like that face he had on…  Guy-Man also didn’t like the screaming he had barely been able to make out.  The English was too garbled by static, by speed and the small speaker.  He knew he couldn’t ask and get a straight answer, but…  Fuck, he just didn’t want his friend looking so sad.  
         “You okay?”  he questioned from his spot on the couch.  
         “Yeah…  Nothing new.”  Thomas explained, putting the phone down on the floor and looking out the window from the floor mattress.  
         “That sucks.”  
         “It does.” he nodded absently, watching as a plane created a white trail in the sky, high above the city.  “It’s my own fault, though.”  
         “Really?”  Guy-Man let out a stream of smoke.  
         “I don’t really know.”  Thomas shrugged.  “I don’t know how much of it is my fault, how much of it is their’s…  How much of it’s yours.  Or even…  Or even if it’s really anyone’s real fault to begin with.”  
         “What do you mean?”  Guy-Man gave a long drag off his cigarette, leaning on the arm of the couch to view Thomas through his curtain of hair.  
         “I know you believe in fate.”  Thomas began, still not looking to him.  
         “Hey, I believe in free will too.  Just some things--”  
         “Are _meant_ to happen.”  The older man finally turned his head back to smirk at him over his shoulder, “I know.”  
         “God is funny like that.”  
         “Yeah.”  Thomas nodded, turning back to the window, “Whether or not I believe in Him, it’s irrelevant, but I’ve come to share that view on things over the years.  Some things have to happen and the rest is left up to chance, the two of us meeting for example…”  
         Guy-Man sniggered, “Yeah, _meant_ to happen.”  
         “If maybe…  Maybe you and I were meant to…”  He shrugged, Thomas had spoken so little more about the relationship that he and Guy-Man had over the past few days.  Guy-Man had guessed it had something to do with not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but as time had gone on he found himself more and more willing to hear about it.  He _wanted_ to know just what Thomas found so extraordinary about him; because, Guy-Man knew what he saw in Thomas.  “If we were meant to be together as we are in my time, I can’t help but feel that some of the things that happen in between is nobody’s real fault…”  Thomas let out a breath, “But I may just be trying to abdicate all responsibility for the heartache I’ve caused.”  
         “ _Abdiquer_ , hmph, again with your verbal eloquence.”  Guy-Man commented with a note of playful condescension.  “As I don’t know what’s going on, I cannot offer much commentary…  Whatever happens between now and then happens.  I at least know that you cannot possibly have been doing anything with malicious intentions.”  
         “That’s very trusting of you.” Thomas gave him a crooked smirk, intending to be menacing.  
         “At what point do we stop saying you’re just predictable and start saying I trust you instead?” Guy-Man raised an eyebrow.  
         “At about the same point that I start to realize that if my life depended upon you, I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.”  All mischief fled Thomas’s face, replaced only by a sincere smile.  
         A hot flush came to Guy-Man’s cheeks and he looked away, “W-Well I was just trying to say that I know you’re not an asshole.” he averted his face from Thomas’s direction and crossed his arms.  “I’m hungry.”  Guy-Man announced, standing to shuffle towards his kitchen.  
         “No, you’re not.”  Thomas asserted knowingly.  
         “Yes, I am.”  
         “You’re _uncomfortable_.”  Thomas admitted with considerable melancholy.  “I’m sorry to do that to you.”  
         “It’s not your fault.”  Guy-Man assured, taking refuge in his kitchen so Thomas could at least not see his face.  “I-I’m just…”  
         “You don’t have to be ready.  I already told you that.”  Thomas spoke in hopes to quell the awkwardness he figured Guy-Man to be feeling.  “I could never ask that of you.  Not only would it be unfair, but unrealistic to boot.”  
         “You’ve always had a talent for being understanding…”  Guy-Man muttered, half hoping Thomas heard him and half wishing that Thomas couldn’t.  
         “If you ever do have any questions, though, I’m open to answering them.  Or, as open as I can be.”  Thomas followed-up.  
         “D-Do we…”  Guy-Man leaned his forehead against the refrigerator, licking his lips, “Do we have any kids?”  
         “Yes.  We do…”  Thomas smiled, apprehensive at the question, “Sorry for all the pregnant jokes I’m going to make.”  
         A sudden flare of embarrassment overtaking Guy-Man, he stomped back into the sitting room, “I get pregnant?!” he screeched in partial terror and partial incredulousness.  
         Thomas blinked twice before throwing his head back and wildly, _hysterically_ laughing.  “No!” he exclaimed between breaths, “Of all the miracles and advancements of modern science, _that_ is not one of them!”  
         “O-Oh.”  Guy-Man held his face in his hands as he shuffled away back into the kitchen.  He _burned_ with humiliation and Thomas’s laughter didn’t help any.  
         “Stop with the being cute.”  Thomas was still trying to abate his laughter, “It’s entirely too distracting.”  
         “Stop it, Thomas!”  Guy-Man pressed himself back to the cool, smooth surface of the fridge, trying to ride out his feelings.  This just was not working out in his favor…  
         “No, really.”  Thomas was beginning to calm, Guy-Man heard him stand up and begin to trod towards where he was.  He felt his skin prickle nervously, no, he didn’t want Thomas to look at him, no, no, no, it was bad enough what he had said, and…  “I’m not laughing at _you_.”  Thomas crooned by his ear, a warm hand resting on Guy-Man’s shoulder.  “Well, I kind of am, because you came up with the idea, but,” he chuckled, “but the whole idea is just funny.”  
         Guy-Man turned his face more away from him; how was he supposed to process multiple onsets of Thomas’s tender feelings properly?  If all of them made his insides writhe in a peculiarly pleasant way and made his face turn this bright pink and…  Ugh, this was so awful.  
         “I’m so stupid.” he mumbled.  
         “Don’t start that.” Thomas instinctively let his hand card through Guy-Man’s hair, brushing a sweet spot on his skull that never failed to both make the shorter man shiver and relax.  “Ignorance can exist independently from stupidity.  You’re _supposed_ to be ignorant of the future.  I’m just fucking things up.”  Thomas clicked his tongue retrospectively, “I’m sorry to be putting you through this.”  
         “Stop apologizing.” Guy-Man suddenly shot over his shoulder, “You can’t help this anymore than I can help…”  He swallowed his words.   _Anymore than I can help this queerness I’m feeling._  
         “Right…  I’m sorry.” Thomas excused, stepping away from him.  
         “You’re already failing the ‘don’t apologize’ test.”  
         “Ah, sorry.” the taller man raised a hand to rub the back of his neck, nervous indecision in his eyes.  
         “You suck.” Guy-Man rolled his eyes, wondering what it was that Thomas had his eyes so transfixed upon.  
         “Can I…”  Thomas let out a breath and looked away, “Never mind.”  
         “No, can you what?”  
         “I’m sor--I mean…”  
         Guy-Man’s eyebrow climbed back up his brow, he stepping away from his fridge to cross his arms.  He gave an impatient foot-tap as he waited for Thomas to articulate himself.  
         “Would it be okay with you, if I… I mean,” Thomas made a forward motion at him with his hands, “you _know_?”  
         “Thomas, please, just spit it out.”  
         “Uh…”  Swallowing, Thomas quickly rethought his actions, “No, I won’t do that to you.” he sighed in the end, “I don’t want to pressure you.”  
         As Guy-Man watched Thomas turn away from him to examine something else across the room from him, his lips curved gently, Thomas couldn’t be an asshole even if he wanted to.  “Okay.” he replied softly.  “Thank you.”  
         “Y-Yeah…” There was a toothy smile on his unsure lips for a second before it dropped off again in silent, internal contemplation.  
          _Ugh…  Keep being so compassionate and I might just…_ Guy-Man stopped his thoughts, he didn’t _need_ to finish them, rather.  Instead, he slowly crossed his baffled friend standing before him and brushed his lips over his bare shoulder.  When Thomas’s face shot to view him, Guy-Man said very quietly “I’ll come around.” With the same smile smile that had yet to leave his face, he stepped away from Thomas, heading towards his bedroom.  He felt the man’s hot hand rest on his shoulder and slowly glide down his arm as he walked away, knowing that he surely must’ve had a dorky, joyous grin on his face.

***

         “Guy-Man, I’ve come to realize something.” Thomas began, holding a glass of wine to his lips.  
         “Oh, _have_ you?” Maybe Guy-Man had drank a little more than he had meant to by this time, but hey, times were stressful and Thomas wasn’t letting him eat as much as he wanted to.  He now had at least three carry-out bags of foods of all different ethnicities.  He had four, but Thomas ate one of them.  “Please enlighten me.”  
         “I keep wondering why there’s nothing to do here--”  
         “You’re on fucking vacation!  What am I supposed to do?”  Guy-Man cut him off, realizing exactly what he was going to say.  “Interviews?” he blew a raspberry at the idea, “Promotional shoots _without_ you?”  he shrugged, “You’ve always been better at that shit.  I have a solo gig in a couple days though.” with a groan he thought _Which I haven’t even begun to consider what material to use._  
         Thomas chuckled, “I get it.” obviously his and Guy-Man’s times together back in this day largely consisted of usual post-album production havoc.  There were interviews to be had, traveling to be done--if he remembered correctly they would going to Japan soon--in the not-so-far-off future they would both be going to LA to get their formal company off the ground.  Thomas would pass his driving test with flying colors, Guy-Man, not so much…  Thomas chuckled to himself and to celebrate actually getting his license, Guy-Man would buy himself a porsche.  
         “Hey, what’s so funny?” the shorter man questioned, poking his friend in the arm.  
         “Nothing, nothing.” Thomas waved him off, to which Guy-Man responded by poking him harder and making some concerned noises.  
         “Tell me!”  
         “Step off, shortstack.” Thomas gave him a playful shove.  Seeing Guy-Man go a bit too far in said direction, however, he panicked and grabbed him by his shirt collar.  
         “You’re choking me.” Guy-Man gagged as Thomas yanked him back onto the barstool. “Ooh,” Guy-Man tossed his hair, giving Thomas a sarcastic look “I love a strong man.” he rubbed his neck where the fabric had dug-in.  
         “Sorry…”  
         “Say you’re sorry one more time and I’ll actually make you sorry.” Guy-Man grumped, swallowing the rest of his wine.  
         “I’d love to see you try.” Thomas joked, resting his chin on his free hand.  “Who knows, maybe you’ll actually win?”  
         “I always win.”  Guy-Man sanguinely asserted, deciding that now was a good time to examine his fingernails.  “Seriously, what were you thinking about?”  
         Thomas shrugged, “Just remembering things.”  
         “About me?”  
         “How could you have ever guessed?” Thomas rolled his eyes in mock irritation.  
         “Was I smooth or charming?” Guy-Man gave him his best approximation of an intentionally attractive smile and only served to make Thomas have to hold in some laughter at the utterly ridiculous expression.  
         “As sandpaper.”  
         “What better way to grind off a hard exterior to worm my way into a soft, mushy interior?” the younger man wagged his eyebrows to and fro.  He ordered more wine and Thomas _considered_ cutting him off soon, but Guy-Man was an adult and he wasn’t an alcoholic yet.  
         “I’m mushy inside and out.” Thomas laughed.  
         “You’re a macaron, then.”  he declared, “ _Appear_ hard, but actually spongy throughout and a sweet goo in the middle.”  
         Thomas fumbled for something to say in that moment.  It wasn’t like he had never heard Guy-Man call him a macaron before, but…  Guy-Man was _flirting_ with him?  Smiling and running his tongue over his lips, he finally understood the origin of Guy-Man occasionally referring to him as “ _Mon Macaron_ ”.  Usually, it was used patronizingly when he did something or said something stupid at home, but once in awhile, it slipped itself in between strokes of his hair in the sweaty, afterglow of love-making.  “You remind me of coffee that someone put the cream in the cup first.”  
         “Ueh?”  Guy-Man blinked, fixing his eyes on Thomas’s face in wordless “Explain! Now!”.  
         “The coffee sits on the top of the cream and the cream disperses slowly upwards into the bitter part.  You have to get through the bitter part to get to all the silky cream.”  Guy-Man shook his head back and forth, nonplussed.  Thomas shook his head, smiling fondly before making it a bit more simple.  “You’re rude and grating at first, slowly you open up and have moments of grace and then you’re nothing but a rich, wonderful experience.”  
         “And you write music?” Guy-Man scowled and scoffed, rolling his eyes as another glass of wine was put before him.  
         “Coffee is also something I would not be able to function without.”  
         Guy-Man was silent, sipping his wine, it was uncertain to Thomas whether or not the flush on his face was embarrassment or inebriation, but he knew he at least saw a hint of a smile.  “Look at us.” he responded with a lofty air, “We’re the perfect trendy cafe couple.”  
         “Excuse me?” Thomas felt his heart jump at Guy-Man referring to them as a couple.  
         “I guess I’ve always known it though.  You’re the sweetness to my bitterness.”  Guy-Man spun the wine glass on its base slowly.  “Everyone always likes you first, I’m an after thought, a necessary evil.”  
         “You’re drunk, I think it’s time to go home.”  When Guy-Man got upset while drunk, he got _upset_.  
         “I’m fine.” the other man contended, “We’re staying here.”  
         “Guy, I know you don’t give two shits if everyone likes you or not.” If Thomas couldn’t remove him, he had to at least soothe him.  
         “Sometimes I do.”  
         “Yeah, but who do you _really_ want to impress if you don’t care about them?”  
         Guy-Man shrugged, finishing his glass of wine.  
         “Exactly.”  Gingerly, the tall man put a hand to his shoulder, licking his lips again as Guy-Man leaned into the touch, “Not everyone likes, me believe it or not.”  
         “They’re all blazing idiots.”  
         “Thanks for the compliment.” Thomas chortled, “But not everyone does, can’t impress everyone and can’t make everyone like you.”  
         “Of course I know that.” Guy-Man made a “pssh” noise, “I taught _you_ that.”  
         “Wise advice from an elder.” Thomas humorously commented.  
         “You’re older than me right now.”  
         “Yeah.”  
         “That’s weird.”  
         “Yeah.” he laughed.  
         “What am I like?”  
         Thomas hit a brick wall, “Uh…”  
         “Just ‘uh’?”  Guy-Man frowned a little.  
         “N-No!  Y-You-You’re, uh, um--”  
         Guy-Man gave him a wide smile, _that_ was the enthusiastic inarticulateness that he was hoping for.  
         “You’re…”  Thomas took in a deep breath and let it out, “You.” he grinned, “I don’t know what else you want me to say.  You’re just you.”  
         “So, stubborn, picky, needy--”  
         “I’d never call you needy.” Thomas clarified.  “That’s your job to call me that.”  
         “A hopeless romantic…”  
         “Again, that’s what you call me.”  
         “Well, I’m just mean.”  
         “Not at all.” Thomas assured, rubbing his shoulder.  
         “How would _you_ describe me then?”  
         The hand slid slowly off Guy-Man’s person as Thomas shrugged, “Everything I need and want.”  
         “So…”  Guy-Man’s face screwed up into one of disdain, “You’d call me ‘perfect’.”  
         “You hate that word, so no.  It’s an unrealistic descriptor that puts too much pressure on you.  I only ever want you to be yourself and who you are is what I need.”  
         Guy-Man held his face between his hands, “You’re hopeless.”  
         “You tell me that a lot.” Thomas’s wide, dorky smile dug under Guy-Man’s skin.  It wormed its way into his silky-smooth insides and made itself a nest that radiated warmth.  
         “I think I’d like to go home now.”

  
         As Guy-Man turned out to be a bit too drunk for the task of walking home safely, he found his legs wrapped around Thomas’s back and his arms around his friend’s neck.  He was well-aware of the hands that gripped his thighs as well as Thomas’s breaths beneath him.  His hair was soft and smelled…  Well, smelled like him.  And weed…  Considering that they both had smoked a significant amount at the beginning of the evening before the bar happened.  
         “You’re so light.” Thomas stated with humor.  
         “I’m not fat yet.”  Guy-Man grumpily responded.  
         “You’re still stuck on that?”  
         “You’re the one that implied I’m much lighter now.”  
         “You gain a _little_ bit of weight.” he honestly explained, “Then you lose it again.  You’re still heavier than this in my time, but you’re also forty.”  
         “Golden years of spreading…”  
         “You’re doing fine.” Thomas consoled, “Really.  I’d even say you’re hot.”  
         “You’re biased.”  
         “Say what you want, it’s the truth.”  
         “Hmph.”  Guy-Man was quiet for a few blocks, seeming to be working out a math problem in his head. “You’re thirty-nine…”  
         “And?”  
         “It’s not hurting you to carry me, is it?”  
         “No, I’m in pretty good shape.” Thomas laughed, “I’m going to be sore later, but really, I’m fine.  Don’t worry--”  
         “About you; I know.”

  
         Carrying Guy-Man up the stairs to his flat turned out to be a more arduous task than Thomas had anticipated.  By the first landing of the staircase, he let Guy-Man slide from his back and just lean on him for support.  A feat that didn’t go well at first as Guy-Man stumbled backwards in his drunkenness and would have hit the floor if a wall hadn’t have been there.  
         He helped him into his flat and to his room, letting Guy-Man collapse on his unmade bed.  He heard him mutter something, but thought nothing of it as he turned to leave.  
         “Wait,” Guy-Man forced himself up onto his hands as Thomas’s back receded, “wait…”  
         “What’s up?” Thomas questioned, wandering back over to him, “I’m going to get you some water.”  
         “Oh, okay…”  Guy-Man went limp against his sheets again, hearing Thomas’s fond noise of amusement as he left the room.  When Thomas returned, Guy-Man forced himself to roll onto his back, hating how the rest of the world continued to spin even after he had ceased motion.  He put his hands to his fly, unbuttoned and unzipped it, but otherwise left it be.  
         “Can you sit up?” Thomas queried, already shirtless again and offering him a hand.  
         “Can you help?”  With those words, Thomas’s hand closed around one of his wrists and gently pulled him into a sitting motion.  He handed the glass of water to him and waited until Guy-Man had successfully drank all of it.  “Thank you.” he muttered, easing himself back down to his covers.  
         “If you don’t need anything else, I’ll be--”  
         “Sleep with me.”  
         There was a momentary pause between the two.  The air was tense with indecision as well as potentially misinterpreted meaning.  
         “Just lay down and sleep with me.”  
         “A-Are you sure?”  
         “Are you trying to say you’re a rapist?” Guy-Man inquired, letting his eyes slip closed.  
         “No, but I just wouldn’t think you’d be comfortable with me…  Well, you know?”  
         “We’ve slept together before.” Guy-Man groggily argued, wanting nothing more than to have someone who was actually stable to latch onto in lieu of this awful nausea.  
         “O-Okay, I-I’ll, uh… I’ll be right back.”  Thomas fled the room for a few moments, returning with something in his hands that Guy-Man didn’t really care about.  He heard Thomas put them on the bedside end table before hearing the ruffle of clothes being removed.  
         “Do you want me to help you out of your shirt?”  
         “M’Fine.  If I sit up, I might get sick.”  
         “Okay.” Guy-Man felt Thomas’s hand on his face, it felt cool and soothing against his hot and sweating skin.  There was a little bit of sensation and memory clipping then, though he knew Thomas was climbing into bed next to him and that knowledge made it slightly less disorientating.  He felt Thomas’s weight next to him and he inched over closer to the fuzzy comfort his body provided.  “A-Are you sure, y-you’re okay with, uh, with this?”  
         “Shut up and go to sleep.”  
         “R-Right…”  Taking a deep breath and releasing it, Thomas laid his head down on the pillow next to Guy-Man’s.  His nose touched the soft hair before him and he was grateful for the familiar comfort of it.  Still unsure of his boundaries, he laid a long arm around Guy-Man’s shoulders and found the man readily relaxing into it against his chest.  Thomas had missed this more than he cared to admit and while it wasn’t exactly the same, it was close enough to give him the most restful sleep he had had since arriving in the time he didn’t belong in.


	9. Chapter 9

         To say that Thomas woke up to a chorus of angels couldn’t have been further from the truth.  What he had woken up to instead was the universal ode to the morning-after hangover.  “ **Bluurgh**!  Fuck…   **Guaaaaaaahg**!”  Or, as Thomas looked at the clock, having to narrow his eyes against his bad vision, the two of them had only been asleep for around two hours; it wasn’t even five yet.  
         Groaning, Thomas lifted a hand to his face and took a long inhale as his thumb and forefingers found his closed eyelids to rub the sand from them.  He felt fine, personally, but he had also drank significantly less than Guy-Man had, he wasn’t much a fan of mixing weed-high with alcohol.  
         “ **Brluaaaaaaah**!”  Echoed from the open door on the other side of the hall.  
         Thankfully not having to worry about morning wood, Thomas slid from bed and pulled his jeans up around his hips.  He belted them and shuffled across the wood flooring to the bathroom across the hall.  Wordlessly, as Guy-Man was going through the dry-heaving stage, Thomas squatted down behind him and gathered all his hair into his hand, away from his face.  The smaller man gagged some more and his body tried to eject what it just didn’t have inside of it anymore.  Thomas remained behind him, rubbing his back with his other hand as his eyes were still squinted with sleep.  
         “I don’t remember--ugh--drinking that much.”  Guy-Man finally spoke, his voice raspy from the burn of acid and bile.  
         “You had a couple of bottles of red wine to yourself.  That’ll do it.”  Thomas’s voice was likewise grainy, albeit, just with the usual morning disuse.  He curled his fingers in slightly, scratching at Guy-Man through the fabric of his shirt with his blunt, wide nails.  
         Suddenly, Guy-Man convulsed again, bending low over the toilet as another stream of yellow made friends with the _other_ streams of yellow in the bowl.  His body giving up, he leaned backwards onto Thomas before falling onto his butt.  He sniffled and raised his arms to dry the tears from his eyes and cheeks.  
         “That was awful.” he commented, Thomas letting go of his hair to let it fall back to his shoulders.  He felt him run his fingers through the tangled mess, not seeing the downright mesmerized expression his friend’s face.  Quietly, he let Thomas work a few knots out, he was gentle and obviously knew what he was doing.  “That feels good.”  Guy-Man found it fit to admit.  He audibly swallowed a viscous lump in his throat, running his tongue along his lips afterwards.  His eyes were falling closed and he realized he wouldn’t have much of a problem if he had fallen asleep where he was.  “You’ve done this before?” he asked, lolling his head back and settling more against Thomas’s warmth.  
         “Yeah.” The other man groggily responded, going from unknotting the hair to just stroking it.   _I did it every day for almost three years._  “It was very common, once upon a time.”  
         “Whaddaya mean?” Guy-Man took in a few steady breaths, letting his eyes slowly close.  
         “There are some things that we’re both going to go through.  We’re going to be apart for most of those things.” Thomas began in smooth, lilting tones.  “In a few years, you and I are going to get caught up in our own lives, I’ll move to LA, you’ll stay here.”  
         “Did we break up?”  Guy-Man questioned, “I mean, Daft Punk.”  
         “No, but neither of us had much inspiration to work together for a long time.  So we did solo things.”  
         Guy-Man grunted, “I’m sure that worked out spectacularly for you.  You’ve always had more talent.”  
         “Talent doesn’t count for shit if you don’t try to improve.” Thomas rebuked.  “And you always have been more motivated than me.” Dropping Guy-Man’s hair, he put his arms around to his front in a moment of forgetting just where he was.  He rested his chin on his broad shoulder as Guy-Man’s head rested on his opposite.  Thomas’s nose brushed the soft skin of his neck and the smaller man released a small “uhn” at the sensation.  
         “Me?  Motivated?”  Guy-Man mocked himself, “When does that happen?”  
         “You’re the only reason I’ve been able to stick with completing anything I do…” he quietly admitted into the shell of his friend’s ear.  “You’re not as lazy as you think you are.”  
         “Mmn.”  Guy-man shrugged, nuzzling against the lips that brushed his sensitive auricles.  “What does your expert bathroom cuddling abilities have to do with difficult times?” he steered the conversation back to earlier subjects.  
         “Y-You never told me what it was you were going through…”  Thomas elaborated, feeling his face turn red “Who knows, maybe you were going through it even before we split up and you being you, you just kept it to yourself.”  
         “What was it you went through?” the nearly-asleep man enquired, realizing that getting a non-cryptic answer out of Thomas about himself wasn’t happening.  
         “You’ll find out in time.  We’ll produce our third album from this time in our lives.”  
         Guy-Man smiled, “Sounds like a _real_ winner album.”  
         “That’s what you said…  Same amount of sarcasm.”  They had both wanted so badly to just be finished with that album, to move on.  Thomas had suspected that during the production of the album, Guy-Man hated being under his surveillance because it hadn’t taken him long to realize what a problem his drinking had turned into.  Sure, by that point, Aurelia had long been in the picture with Luc, but Guy-Man was secretive; it sufficed to say that most of Luc’s early memories of his Papa were anything but positive.  Thomas never judged Auri for not noticing; it had been so much easier to believe that they were happy.  That _Guy-Man_ , rather, was happy being a father and husband…  However, equally in her defense, Thomas was willing to bank it being a problem before they had even started cohabiting for the sake of the baby.  Which, he supposed meant that…   _It’s going to start soon…_  
         For a paralyzing and breathless few seconds, he realized he could warn Guy-Man of his soon-to-be affliction…  Maybe he could convince him not to do it, he could stay healthy and never have to deal with it at all.  Never did Guy-Man have to travel down that harsh road of self-loathing; never would there have to have been the endless yelling and blows traded between them as Thomas and Elodie and Auri fought to break his habit for the subsequent years.  
         “Are you okay back there?”  Guy-Man asked, concern coloring his voice  
         He could tell him… He could!  Everything would be avoided…  “I’m fine.” Thomas said instead; he couldn’t worry so much about changing the future and then attempt to take out a serious moment of their lives.  They both clearly lived through that time and both came out better for it.  “You’re still drunk, though.”  
         “True.”  Guy-Man gave another audible swallow.  
         “We should go back to bed.  If you’re done.”  
         “I’d love some more sleep.”  Pushing off from Thomas, Guy-Man heaved himself to his feet, flushing the toilet as his stomach turned over inside.  “I think I need some water first.”  
         From his spot on the floor, Thomas watched as Guy-Man sucked water into his mouth from the faucet, gargled and spat.  He then got to his feet himself as the man just lowered his head to the faucet again and drank the cold, running water.  
         When the two shuffled back to bed together, Thomas unceremoniously shed his jeans to the floor as Guy-Man did likewise and removed his shirt.  As they climbed back into bed, Thomas instinctively wrapped his arms around his partner’s body, surprised by how the other man flinched as his fingers trailed over the hot, smooth skin.  He nearly pulled his hands back to himself, but the smaller man caught his wrists and pulled them back around him, mumbling, “It’s fine.” he then swallowed and said “They’re just cold.”  
         Silently, Thomas squeezed him, the force of which pulled them together, his chest pressed against Guy-Man’s back as the smaller man released a long sigh.  Though, Thomas didn’t let himself do everything he wanted to, Guy-Man might not take kindly to his face planting itself in his hair to take a long breath or his fingers absently teasing what little chest hair he had or tickling the back of his neck with his beard.  This was good, he was content, cozy.  
         “Thomas…” the drunk man spoke up in the darkness.  
         “What?”  
         “What were you and Nicole talking about while I was still in bed that day?”  
         Thomas shrugged in mock forgetfulness, “Nothing important.”  
         “She told me…”  Guy-Man let out an awkward breath, lifting his pillow with his hands to smother his face in it, “She told me you wanted to…”  
          _Oh, here we go…_  Thomas rolled his eyes to himself, waiting for Guy-Man to finish. “That I wanted to what?”  
         Guy-Man mumbled something into the soft confines of his pillow that Thomas couldn’t understand.  
         “If you want me to hear you you have to not be talking to the pillow.”  
        “She said you wanted to fuck me…”  Guy-Man whispered, Thomas barely even being able to pick up the sounds of “ _Elle me dit_ ” and “ _baise-moi_ ”.  Thomas sighed and rolled his eyes again, of course she would’ve said something like that.  “I didn’t think she was serious.  B-But considering, everything…”  
         “She thought I was a whore staying with you.” he explained before Guy-Man could accuse him of something.  
         “What?  Why?”  
         “Because she had no idea who I was and you…  Uh, you do sometimes flirt with men with her around, right?”  
         “No…”  Guy-Man replied flatly and honestly, “Do I do that in your time?”  
         “No, you’ve never shown much interest in men with me around, though, I do remember you saying that there was _one_ guy in the past.”  
         “She lied to you.” Guy-Man chuckled, “I can’t be angry though.” he elaborated, turning over in Thomas’s arms to face him, “Because…” Thomas inched back away from him as he realized their faces ended up being what Guy-Man could call uncomfortably close.  
         For an agonizing couple of seconds, Thomas watched Guy-Man’s tongue flit out over his lips, his icy eyes intently fixed upon his visage.  He had seen that face before, many times and while he loved what it meant he wasn’t sure if--  
         Thomas quickly averted his mouth as Guy-Man’s lips sought it; they landed on his chin instead, then his jaw as Guy-Man attempted again, then his cheek…  
        “Guy, you’re drunk, stop it.” Thomas entreated him, gently pushing him away down to the bed.  
        “I’m not that drunk, I just want one!”  Guy-Man almost whined.  
        “No, you’re still drunk and I don’t want to do something th--”  
        “I’m the one trying!” Guy-Man pointed out, reaching a hand slowly up to Thomas’s cheek. “I just want to see what it feels like.” he explained, his eyes fixated on Thomas’s lips, his thumb slowly gliding down to run along his bottom one.  “I’ve never kissed someone with a beard before.”  
        Thomas closed his eyes and sighed, he’d been yearning for some kind of returned intimate touch all week; the hand on his cheek and the thumb so close to the fissure between his lips was tantalizing.  He wanted to kiss it, to take the thumb into his mouth and suck on it, knowing what it would do to Guy-Man, then he thought of licking all the strong, glorious digits as he listened to him insult him for being a tease.  He couldn’t do that to him though, that was rape in some small way, wasn’t it?  He was drunk and while Guy-Man had never been any less knowing of his desires while drunk, with him so significantly younger and less experienced in just about anything, it seemed like taking advantage of him.  However, Guy-Man hadn’t mentioned anything about that.  
         “I’m not asking for anything else.”  Guy-Man assured, “Just a kiss.”  
         Saying yes and saying no both had positive and negative outcomes, Thomas puzzled in his cranium.  Guy-Man would surely be dejected and angry if he said no.  There was the possibility of Guy-Man being angry in the morning when they woke up, accusing him of all kinds of things…  He let out a frustrated breath and dropped his head to the pillow below, screaming into it.  
         “You do that a lot.”  Guy-Man observed with amusement.  
         He screamed again.  
         “Are you okay?”  
         Moving his face to the side so he could see Guy-Man again, he mumbled, “I don’t know what to say.”  
         The other man was silent, frowning as he turned to face the other way again.  
         “Wait…”  Thomas raised himself up onto his elbow and leaned over him, Guy-Man repositioned his head to look up at him as he did so.  “Just one before bed?” the thin man hadn’t quite realized how badly he had been wanting one, one of those small, affectionate reassurances that meant though he was an idiot, Guy-Man didn’t care about that.  A hot hand lifted and threaded itself up into Thomas’s hair, he closed his eyes and leaned against it, brushing his lips against its wrist.  “I just don’t want you thinking that I would try to…”  
         “Thomas, I…  I _trust_ you.” Guy-Man slowly pronounced, “You’re not a bad person.” he continued, guiding the older man’s face down closer to him, “Please kiss me so we can go to sleep.”  
         Leaning in, Thomas felt Guy-Man’s hand in his hair tense and slowly relax as their lips met.  In the bliss of such contact, the two kissed again, their eyes drifting to only half-open in a moment of private enjoyment.  Guy-Man’s hand slid down from Thomas’s hair and rested on his shoulder as they kissed for a third time.  
         When Thomas lowered himself back down to the bed, Guy-Man turned over once more, his and the other’s arms tangling around each other.  Already being a pro at sleeping with a clingy partner, Thomas easily found a comfortable situation for himself, Guy-Man on the other hand, had less luck.  He turned a little bit, raised his leg there, kinked his neck there…  Thomas would’ve helped if he could, but he had already fallen back asleep in the peaceful embrace of his partner.  
          _Damn it._  Guy-Man thought as he settled upon a position that was going to “smart” in the morning.

***

         Waking up face-to-face with Thomas certainly hadn’t been an unexpected turn of events for Guy-Man.  It wasn’t even necessarily a bad thing, in fact, it might have been a good thing, his heart rarely did the things that it was doing if it was a bad thing.  It was, still, a nonetheless awkward experience, in part because he had never really had girlfriends that favored such close proximity before; also, it was worth a mention, that they often did not sleep with their mouths open and drool on themselves either.  Guy-Man was not sure if it was cute or disgusting.  
          _Is it possible for it be both?_  He didn’t pursue the line of thought for very long because as his stomach rolled over he remembered that he was in for a raucous hangover.  Taking a long breath, he sighed and just snuggled back into his pillow, intending to enjoy Thomas’s warmth a little longer and ignore the fact that he was going to have a splitting headache.  
         This was not to be so, however.  A noise like he had never heard before, very loud and very obnoxious split the silence of the room.  Thrashing about in the sheets to sit up, he found the most likely culprit as Thomas was violently thrown into wakefulness.  With a noise comparable only to that of a bear having been stung by a nest of bees, he snatched up the thin, obnoxious object and poised himself to throw it at the wall in hopes of shutting it up.  
         “No!  Not today!” Thomas nearly screeched as he threw himself at his bedmate, clasping his wrist in a vise-like grip for dear life.  
         “It has **to die** , Thomas!”  Guy-Man yelled, gritting his teeth and growling loudly as he tried in vain to throw the still alarming cellphone.  
         “I just got a new one, **damn it**!” Thomas twisted Guy-Man’s wrist until he dropped the object to the softness of the bed.  In a blur of motion the two men untangled themselves and went for the phone, Thomas, thankfully snatching it first to turn the alarm off.  
         Still angry that the phone had ruined the perfect bedroom atmosphere, Guy-Man launched himself at Thomas, their skin colliding with a thud that resounded through the room.  As a very mature game of keep-away continued, Guy-Man striding Thomas’s lap, it all flew at him all too quickly how equal parts gay this whole thing looked and how sick all the motion was making him.  
         “Guy-Man!  I’m not as young as you are, this kind of hurts.” Thomas reminded him, still grinning through the soreness until he heard a tell-tale “Ub,” from his friend.  He saw his eyes roll before squeezing shut and his lips purse into a straight, hard line as he sat back.  There was a convulsion that rocketed through Guy-Man’s body and Thomas’s eyes went wide, “No, no, no, no!”  
         “ **Bluuurraagh**!” a stream of partially water, mostly bile left Guy-Man’s mouth with violent force.  “Ugh, that’s disgusting.” he commented before another convulsing fit hit him.  
         “Yeah…”  Thomas bluntly agreed, “At least you got it on the floor.” he provided as some consolation, reaching out and stroking his spine with his nails.  The other man leaned away from the touch and Thomas let the hand drop to lay by his side.  “How about you go get cleaned up and I’ll get the mess on the floor?”  
         “You don’t have to.”  
         “No, I don’t, but I still want to help.  It’s nothing new to me.”  
         Guy-Man said nothing, still sitting on Thomas’s bare legs and peering down at the putrid splatter on the hardwood flooring.  “Did you leave those over there for me?” he suddenly asked, pointing backwards to the bedside table where the phone had been.  There was a small dish containing a few painkillers as well as a tall glass of water.  
         “Of course, I figured you’d need them.”  
          He stepped gingerly off the bed, readjusting his boxer-briefs as he did so.  A sudden coughing fit overtook him, the beginnings of his prevalent smoker’s cough wracking his frame.  “I’m not a kid,” he recovered in a grainy voice, “you don’t have to take care of me, old man.”  
         Thomas then did something he had picked up from his partner, he huffed, “Trying to make your day better when you’re feeling like shit is not me babying you.”  
         His back still turned to Thomas, Guy-Man answered, “I still could’ve gotten it myself…”  
         “Ugh, go take your shower.” Thomas suggested, standing from bed and shouldering past him to go retrieve a towel to clean the vomit up with.  
         When he returned, the glass and dish of pills were missing along with the man they were meant for, so at least Guy-Man was taking them.  He heard the shower start from across the hall as he bent low and wiped up the acid that had probably started to eat away at the floor’s protective coating.  This was surely a harbinger of things to come that his younger self would be completely oblivious to for awhile.  He couldn’t say that _he_ had really paid much attention to Guy-Man’s burgeoning alcoholism; they were both too busy with their lives and spent too much time apart.  
         From his spot on the ground he heard “crrrrk” before “Thomas?” followed.  He lifted his head to see over the bed, the door to the bathroom was cracked open, Guy-Man’s head poking out.  
         “Yeah, what?” he realized he was sounding _a lot_ like his partner that morning, but, he wasn’t at his physical or mental best that morning either.  While he hadn’t had as much as Guy-Man had, he was still feeling the after effects of alcohol in his system.  
         “You don’t have to, but…” Guy-Man began, at first sounding timid, but quickly working his tone to sound impatient. “But my water bill is going to be insane this month with two people staying every night so, how about we save some water and…”  
         “Are you asking me to shower with you?” Thomas questioned, too tired to be willing to deal with the younger man’s defensive tendencies.  
         “Not in those exact words…”  
         Nodding, Thomas looked back down to the floor and made sure he had successfully wiped up all of the mess, “I’ll be in in a second.”

  
         Closing the door quickly, Guy-Man was unsure what exactly had just caused that momentary insanity.  Sleeping together in their underwear was one thing, but, but…  But why hadn’t he thought before about them being _naked_?!  In close proximity!  
          _Slow down, dumbass, you’ve seen him naked many times._ He reminded himself, huffing as he lit up his cigarette.  With a strong breath off of the roll between his lips, he ran his hands through his hair as the room filled up with steam.   _Just don’t be a dick this time and you won’t have to apologize for this again._  Naked, he leaned against the bathroom counter, taking nervous drags off his cigarette.   _What the fuck is taking him so long?_  He fidgeted by bouncing his leg up and down. _Seriously, he’s fucking ridiculous that stupid, fucking--_  
         “Doing all right over there?” Thomas interrupted his thoughts, stepping into the steamy room.  
         “Fine.” Guy-Man answered tersely, trying to finish his cigarette as quickly as possible.  
         “A bit damp in here for smoking isn’t it?” the older man tried to ease him, closing the door behind him.  
         “Fuck off.”  
         Thomas frowned.  
         “I mean…  I just haven’t had one yet and--”  
         “And you’re grumpy.” Thomas smiled knowingly.  
         “Hmph, that.”   _Don’t smile like that, you’re not allowed to smile like that.  Fuck you--fuck you and your smile._  
         “Are you just going to sit there and curse me internally all day or are you actually going to get in the shower?” Thomas chuckled, reaching back to scratch the back of his neck.  
          _Holy fuck!  Can he read my mind?!  Thomas… Are you a mind-reader in the future?  Fuck, think of something else…_ Oh, he noticed how lovely Thomas’s erect penis was as he took off his _\-- **Think of something else!**_  
         “A-Are you okay?”  Thomas questioned, a self-conscious feeling settling into his bones as he placed his hands over his dick.  Guy-Man wasn’t saying anything, a tic forming between his eyebrows as his eyes intently burrowed themselves under his skin and his cigarette burned between his fingers.  
         Guy-Man’s mouth being a firm line, his eyes rolled themselves slowly to the shower and he deposited his spent cigarette in the sink.  He was silent, not looking below Thomas’s chest and very clumsy as he stepped into the shower, nearly slipping onto his ass instantly on the ceramic.  As far as what was going on in his head it was nothing but an incomprehensible slurry of _Think of something else--think of something else-- **Think!  Of something!  Else!**_  
         “I can leave if you’d like…”  Thomas offered, slipping his head past the shower curtain to talk to Guy-Man as his face looked more and more like a tomato.  
         “No-no!  Ah, stay!  I’m just…   _You’re_ a little bit, uh…”  
         “I-I’m sorry, uh, it’s the, i-it’s the morning.” Thomas excused, stepping into the hot spray as his dick stood at attention, seemingly trying its hardest to tap his stomach as he walked.  
         “And I guess, m-me being naked isn’t helping?” Guy-Man offered, trying to be humorous, but realizing it made him sound more self-important than anything.  
         “Not at all.” Thomas agreed with an uneasy chuckle.  “And it’s been awhile since I’ve done anything--you know what it’s like.”  
         “I do…” Guy-Man answered dubiously over his shoulder, refusing to turn and let Thomas see his own affliction bobbing between his legs.  He hadn’t counted on this being something quite so awkward, mostly he also wasn’t counting on his dick to be screaming “hello!” at Thomas the whole time.  
         “I’m sorry.” Thomas said for what must’ve been the thousandth time since arriving, “Excuse me for a second.”  Stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel, Thomas left the room.  On the one hand, Guy-Man found himself infinitely relieved, on the other, he couldn’t help but feel a little abandoned.  He knew it was nothing against him and he had a fair _idea_ of what it was Thomas was doing and he was sure he didn’t want to be present for that…  Pretty sure…  All the same, as he took himself to hand and leaned his head against the tile of the shower, he couldn’t help but think it was possibly the most lonely he had been in a long time.

  
         After Thomas had returned the two had little awkwardness between them.  It might not have been a completely smooth activity for them, bathing together, but it felt less stressful than it had.  They took turns under the spray, passed the soap back and forth to each other and spent most of the time making fun of each other.  Thomas’s favorite thing had always been to zero-in on Guy-Man’s paunch, to which Guy-Man usually responded by grabbing some cluster of Thomas’s stomach hair and giving it a rough pull.  
         “That hurts a lot more than you think it does!” Thomas yelped as Guy-Man had been pulling on it for quite some time.  
         “Then stop poking my stomach!” Guy-Man had growled at him.  
         After all of that nonsense had been said and done though, the two of them found themselves sitting on the couch, Thomas in his jeans and Guy-Man in his underwear, wrapped up in a few blankets.  Guy-Man moaned about his head, in spite of the medications Thomas had provided for him and also moaned about being hungry.  
         “I can make you some food.” Thomas offered.  
         “If you break my flat again, Thomas, I’m going to have to break you.” Guy-Man griped.  
         “I have never broken your flat.” Thomas rebutted.  
         “A likely story coming from a senile, old man.” Guy-Man simpered impishly.  
         “I’m not that old!”  
         “Wasn’t it you that said you were too old for rough-housing this morning?” he was still tittering to himself.  
         “That was different!  I’m not forgetful!”  
         “Be that as it may, in thirteen years have you learned how to cook?”  
         “Of course…”  
         Guy-Man made a noise of disbelief, “Show me, then.”  
         “Watch and be amazed.”  The two stood and shuffled to the kitchen, Thomas looking around to see what all had been left from when Guy-Man went to the grocery.  He was also reminded that there were three bags of carry-out food sitting in the fridge from last night that still needed to be eaten.  However, as Guy-Man needed to be impressed that he could cook, they would have to ignore those for now.  
         “Fuck, a sandwich!”  Guy-Man exclaimed, taking a paper bag out of the fridge, extricating its half-eaten remains and digging his face into it.  
         Or not.  
         “Leave room for what I’m going to cook you, you pig.” Thomas warned without thinking of his words first.  He saw for a second, that hesitation on Guy-Man’s face, his teeth stopping half-way through their second bite of food.  “I-I didn’t…”  Thomas tried to recover, but saw his friend shake his head.  
        The man brought his sandwich away from his face, re-wrapped it up and put it back where he had found it, “It’s okay.” he let out a breath and motioned to the other things contained inside, “What were you going to make?”  
         “Coffee first, you want some?” Though Thomas noticed Guy-Man had collected all the proper ingredients for a dish Thomas hadn’t eaten in forever--brandade.  A dish which he always found to be delicious and easy to make.  
         “You broke the espresso machine two weeks ago, have fun with that.”  Guy-Man dismissed.  
         “I don’t remember that.”  
         “Old man.” Guy-Man snorted.  
         “This was thirteen years ago!”  Grumbling, Thomas looked over to the espresso machine and tried to see just what he had exactly done to the poor thing to break it.  “Oh.”  
         “What?”  
         “It’s not broken, I reassembled it improperly.”  Thomas made quick work of the problem, “You just never bothered to check it after it didn’t work the first time.” he rolled his eyes.  
         “And you still say I’m the motivated one?” the other man scoffed as Thomas loaded the now properly-assembled machine with caffeinated goodness.  
         “You’re a motivat _or_ , then.” Thomas emended, grabbing down a mug and lining the bottom with cream before sitting it beneath the machine and waiting.  
         “You put your cream in first?” Guy-Man pretentiously judged.  
         Thomas just smiled at him, “Makes for the perfect cup of coffee.”  
         “Well, my Macaron, you obviously have never had coffee black.”  he playfully scoffed, coming to lean on the counter next to Thomas’s shoulder.  “Maybe I should educate you sometime.”  
         “Oh Darling, I love it when you talk dirty.” Thomas rolled his eyes, chuckling when he heard the spew of stutters next to him.  
         “What did I--”  
         “Say about the innuendos?” Thomas finished for him, watching as Guy-Man turned even redder.  “I somewhat feel that after last night, it wouldn’t matter as much.”  
         “No, I suppose not…”  Guy-Man reflected, turning his head to look up at Thomas as he focused on his cup of espresso.  “Do you drink coffee a lot?”  
         “Yes, a lot.” Thomas admitted, abashed, “It’s become a problem.” he joked as he took a sip of the hot liquid.  
         “So, you normally taste like coffee?”  
         “Uh… Yes?”  
         “C’mere.”  Guy-Man beckoned him down with a finger, finding it endlessly amusing how quickly Thomas obeyed.  Putting their lips together, Guy-Man traced the outline of Thomas’s lips with his tongue, making the man shiver.  “Wow, you’re easy.” he mumbled against him.  
         “Y-You do that a lot…” the older man divulged.  “It’s something I really, _really_ like.”  
         “Sounds like I have you wrapped around my little finger, beanstalk.”  Again, he pressed their lips together and traced Thomas’s lips, taking his chance when they parted.  Their tongues lapped against each other for a few moments, Thomas placing his cup down on the counter to grab Guy-Man’s shoulders.  “Is that how it is?” Guy-Man asked before he took Thomas’s lower lip into his mouth and sucked on it.  
         “On the contrary,” Thomas began, breaking their mouths away from each other and speaking his sweet, lilting tones into his younger partner’s ear.  “You’re quite easily wrapped around me too.”  In a surprising display of his muscles, Thomas lifted him off the ground in much the same way that he had days prior, but with a enough force to nearly throw Guy-Man up around his hips.  His hands pressed into Guy-Man’s bare skin, creating hot points of contact where his fingertips made small divots.  “Literally.”  
         Instantly locking his ankles around Thomas’s waist, Guy-Man muttered, “Aren’t you so glad I’m not fat yet?”  
         “I still do this to you.” Thomas purred lowly into his ear.  “You’re quite easy for me to control.” his tongue flicked out against the crest of Guy-Man’s ear and he _knew_ he felt the man’s body quake.  
         “Ah,” he breathed out at the unexpected pleasure of his tongue and the hot throb Thomas’s almost menacingly confident voice spurred in his groin.  “C-Can you…  Not do that?” Guy-Man asked, clutching tightly to Thomas’s chest and squeezing his eyes shut against the shame he felt.  
         “I-I’m sorry!” Thomas wondered exactly what it had been he was thinking…   _You weren’t._  He chastised himself.  “I’ll put you down now!” the man nervously slacked his grip on his friend’s nearly-naked body, “I’m sorry, again…” he bent forward slightly to let him down, but found Guy-Man peculiarly reticent to let go.  
         “Don’t be upset.” Guy-Man soothed, “I started it.”  He squeezed Thomas’s whole body in a particularly intimate hug.  “I-I don’t know what I was thinking…  Not expecting you to react in some way, knowing how you feel.”  
         “It’s okay.” Thomas reassured him, standing up straight to take some of the strain off his back and placing his hands underneath Guy-Man’s buttocks.  “I shouldn’t have reacted _that_ way, though…”  
         Guy-Man suddenly laughed, playing with his own hair over Thomas’s shoulder.  
         “What’s funny?” Thomas swallowed nervously.  
         “Nothing, really…  It’s just funny that one minute you’re all ‘I can control you with just my hands’ and then the next minute you’re just a stuttering, awkward teenager again.”  
         Thomas chuckled a little bit, shifting his neck so Guy-Man had to look at him head-on, “On the contrary, I’m _always_ a stuttering, awkward teenager.  But sometimes I put on a mask and become sexy.”  
         “Or a disco robot.” Guy-Man added.  
         “Sometimes I put on a mask and become sexy…” Thomas reiterated, happy when his friend threw his head back and laughed.  
         “If robots are your thing, maybe.” Guy-Man sniped making eye contact with him again.  
         “Short gold ones have always been my thing.” Thomas honestly replied, leaning a bit closer to him.  
         “I think I’ll stick with a fucking stupid macaron.” Guy-Man said, lightly bumping their foreheads together.


	10. Chapter 10

         “When do you exactly learn to cook?” Guy-Man interrogated as he spooned more brandade into his mouth.  It was most decidedly a pity that after they parted from their momentary, affectionate impasse that whilst Thomas cooked, Guy-Man had made himself scarce to get dressed.  What he should’ve been doing was scrutinizing his friend’s every mood so he could replicate the smooth, cheesey, creaminess that he was experiencing.  Maybe he could twist Thomas’s arm for the recipe, it was the best he had ever tasted of the salty dish.  
         “Never, really.” Thomas chuckled, sucking a bit of forgotten food out of the recesses of his cheek.  “There are just _some_ things that I know how to cook.  You really seem to like it when I make this though.”    
         “Do I do most of the household cooking, then?” Hearing the reticent tone in Guy-Man’s voice made Thomas a little uneasy to answer the question, nonetheless, he would.  
         “Believe it or not, you and I have a lot of individual projects at any given time.”  Thomas spoke down to his bowl of dwindling food, “We very rarely have dinner together; it’s usually we just cook for ourselves.  The most time that we really get together at home as far as eating goes is breakfast and even then, you’re usually out before me.”  
         “Oh…”  
         “Are you disappointed?”  the older man asked, turning to look at his counterpart on the couch as he set his empty bowl on the coffee table.  
         “No…  Quite the opposite, actually.” Guy-Man explained, licking his spoon, “You know me…  What I think of marriage--it’s something I want.” He let out a few light chuckles, “There’s a part of me though that’s always been worried everything will suddenly be different after that point.”  
         Thomas slowly nodded along, this was not a conversation the two would never have in the future.  
         “Like, I’ll suddenly have no time to myself and everything, _fucking_ everything will be done with just the same person over and over again.”  he stopped to take a bite of food, chew and swallow, “I’m glad to hear that we aren’t always up each other’s asses.” A blush broke out over his face shortly after he considered what it was he had said, “Uh, you know what I mean…”  
         Thomas laughed, slapping one of his legs and leaning his head back to rest it on the top of the couch.  
         “It wasn’t that funny!” Guy-man shoved him in an attempt to get him to stop.  
         “No, no, I suppose it wasn’t, but,” _But we more often than not_ are _up each other’s asses._  “but, ah…  Heheh, I think it’s good for both of us that we’re not together twenty-four-seven.” Thomas reflected.  “Not that we get tired of each other, but…” he grinned, “We’re kind of a destructive-constructive force when we’re together, if you know what I mean.”  
          As Guy-Man watched Thomas attempt to explain himself in a concise manner, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at him.  The mirth that warmed his voice was intoxicating and it made his chest turn to mush to know that _he_ was responsible for all of it.  It wasn’t often that Guy-Man contemplated his own ability to make others happy, what had always been most important was pleasing himself first and others second; being faced with the reality that he made someone happy beyond all reason had the most profound impact upon him in those moments sitting upon the couch.  There was--haha--something about him.  Something that made Guy-Man want to see him be the happiest motherfucker on the face of the planet.  
          For a second Thomas was more important than himself.  
          Whoa...  
          “Thomas?”  Guy-Man interrupted, releasing a snort of laughter as his partner instantly turned to face him from his euphoric contemplations.  
          “What?”  
          “Kiss me, dumbass.”  
          Not needing to be told more than once, Thomas leaned in, pressing their lips together for just a second too short for Guy-Man to have been satisfied.  
          “Get back here.” he ordered, sitting aside his bowl of food next to Thomas’s on the table.  His hands went to rest one on the junction of his neck and shoulder and the other cupped his face.  With a firm and gentle movement, Guy-Man pulled Thomas back to him, all but crushing their lips against each other.  He squeezed his eyes shut and scratched at Thomas’s shoulder as their lips moved against one another with great purpose.  
         They parted for breath, resting their foreheads together and Thomas whispered between them, “Guy…  What are you doing?”  
         “I don’t know…”  His lips met Thomas’s again, Thomas pushing to get him to lay back.  Not being overly fond of having someone directly over him, Guy-Man scooted further back, propping his back up on the armrest behind him.  Both of his arms slid around Thomas’s shoulders as Thomas’s hands came to stand on the armrest on either side of his ribs.  Their kisses had hereto been just their lips, but as Guy-Man pressed for his tongue to enter Thomas’s mouth, Thomas broke them apart again; his eyes closed and forehead returning to its habitual place on Guy-Man’s own, he asked again in panting breaths “What are you _doing_?”  
         “Do you want to stop?” Guy-Man questioned, short of breath.  
         “No.”  
         “Me neither.”  They were back to trying to mold themselves into the same person a second later.  Their breaths became feverish and Guy-Man’s hands dug into Thomas’s fuzzy skin as they tore their wet mouths apart.  “Ah!” Guy-Man moaned as Thomas licked and nipped at the base of his jaw, “Don’t get too excited.” he grunted through gritted teeth.  Clouded though his mind was, he was not about to venture anywhere below their necks.  His strong fingers lacing up into Thomas’s hair to pull him back up to his mouth.  
         “Don’t pull.”  Thomas growled, wrapping his fingers around Guy-Man’s wrist in a harsh grip “I hate that.” he removed the hand from his hair, forcing it down to the couch.  Their mouths and tongues twined and fought again, Guy-Man sighing and moaning into their contact.  While Thomas had the urge to slip his hands under his friend’s shirt and lightly scratch his skin, he sensed that this was going to be little more other than kissing.  He was quite okay with that.  
         “I’ve never taken you for the aggressive type.” Guy-Man giggled as their blaze calmed to a warm flame.  
         “Me neither.” Thomas responded in a light voice.  “But it’s something you inspire.”  
         “Nice to know I’m so special.”  Guy-Man sniggered, Thomas responding by peppering his lips and cheeks with small kisses.  “Eugh, you’re disgusting.”  
         “I know.” Thomas agreed lightheartedly, scooting back to lay on his stomach and rest his head on Guy-Man’s belly.  
         “Um…”  The younger man’s insides were doing many, figurative acrobatics in the moments of Thomas wrapping his arms around him and nuzzling his face into the soft mound of his stomach.  If only to keep Thomas from cutting off the circulation to his legs, Guy-Man spread his knees apart to rest them on either side of his clingy friend.  Try as he did to keep his mind off things, it was a little hard considering his position and knowing a thing or two about Thomas.  It was an all too easy thing to see him sliding down to the waist of his pants and…  Ugh, he needed to move before that obnoxious thing between his legs--that wasn’t Thomas--tried to stand up more than it already was.  He shivered as he could feel Thomas’s whiskers against his skin; his shirt had rode up over his stomach and he could imagine him kissing it.  
         Thomas shifted, Guy-Man hoping the friction he caused on his groin was accidental and also hoping he hadn’t noticed the reaction he was having.  
         “Sorry.” Thomas followed-up, dashing that hope and turning Guy-Man’s face an indignant red.  “Do you want me to get off?”  
         “No…  My back’s getting sore, but this is…” He shrugged, “This is nice.” His hand threaded into Thomas’s thinning hair and stroked, he felt the older man relax almost immediately and chuckled, “Is this why you’re going bald?”  
         “If it is, I can’t say I care.”  As Guy-Man stroked, Thomas could almost hear the half-patronizing, half-sincere words on his husband’s lips.  That “sick” part inside of him desperately wanted to hear it, the hard G beginning noise that lead into Guy-Manuel’s lips curving seductively around the double O and then the D and the way he would drop the mutter to just an airy whisper as he came to the second word.  He would then repeat himself quietly as if to share a secret that only Thomas was allowed to be privy to.   _“My good boy.”_ Thomas heard in his head, a tidal wave of emotion smacking into and threatening to drown him.  
         “Is something wrong?” Guy-Man questioned, feeling Thomas’s embrace grow fierce and unyielding.  
         “I’m fine, Darling.” Thomas grinned.  
         Guy-Man pressed Thomas’s face down into his stomach as he tried to lift his head.  He wasn’t going to stand for Thomas seeing him blush so hard if he could avoid it.  He smiled widely at the ensuing heartwarming laugh and released him, leaning back again to the arm of the couch.  
         “Want to help me get together some of my material for my gig?”

  
         For the next few hours until sunset, Thomas and Guy-Man spent it in Guy-Man’s storage room at the end of the hall.  It originally was touted as a second bedroom, but as Guy-Man had accumulated a wealth of records, equipment and just _stuff_ over the years it never fulfilled that purpose.  
         “At all getting hit with nostalgia?” Guy-Man suddenly asked, placing another vinyl on the already voluminous stack.  
         “Everything has been nostalgic since I arrived.”  Thomas chuckled, “The clothes, the places the radio…  But, yeah, I haven’t done this in…”  he blew out a puff of air, “ _Years_.”  Carefully, he pulled a record from its sleeve and grinned, Guy-Man had managed to keep his complex collection of records throughout the years; it was somehow difficult for him to grasp that the record he was currently holding was the same one that he had put on the turntable two weeks ago in his home.  It wasn’t as worn, in fact, it looked brand-spankin-new, and it hadn’t been played nearly as many times yet, but it was the _same_ damn one.  Of course as he looked up to Guy-Man, hard at work, worrying over the best tracks to use, reading over the lists on the backs of the covers, he was hit by that same feeling.  This…  This was some _quality_ shit he was getting to experience all over again.  
         For five seconds he wondered what would’ve gone down if he had ended up before their unique kind of fame set-in.  He guessed that since _Discovery_ would’ve only been released the past month they hadn’t quite yet been inundated with excessive fame, but to the rest of the world, they were robots.  The more he thought about it though, the more he wouldn’t have wanted to visit a time before they published _Homework_.  They were both still children after all…  
         “You still in there?”  Guy-Man asked, tearing Thomas out of his contemplations.  
         “Uh?  What?  Sorry, I was thinking.”  
         “Being nostalgic?”  
         “Of course.” Thomas smirked, “Early nineties nostalgic.”  
         Guy-Man chuckled and clicked his tongue  “Don’t bother being _so_ nostalgic.” he chastised, Thomas feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand up “By the way you talk of the future, something tells me you’re not a has-been yet, old man.”  Much to Guy-Man’s befuddlement, his interlocutor laughed, throwing his head back.  “What?”  
         Quelling his laughter just enough to get a few words in, all Thomas was capable of saying was “You wouldn’t understand.”  
         “I think it’s time for bed, you’re slap-happy.”  Guy-Man asserted, flicking his eyes to the analog clock that told them it was past one.  “And it’s not like this thing is going down tomorrow or anything.”  he yawned deeply and stretched his arms up towards the ceiling.  
         “Yeah, I’m thinking the same.” Thomas chuckled standing up from his cross-legged spot on the hardwood.  
         After the two had gone through their usual routines of getting ready for bed, Thomas began to make his way over to the mattress beneath the window.  He set the alarm on his phone just as he heard Guy-Man padding into the living room behind him.  
         “Hey, uh…  What’re you doing?”  the smaller man asked in only his underwear.  
         “Going to bed…” Thomas felt it should be obvious, flicking his eyes down to his designated spot.  
         “Oh, uh…” Guy-Man’s brow furrowed, “That’s cool…”  An eyebrow slowly climbing up Thomas’s forehead prompted him to continue speaking.  “I was just…  You don’t have to, obviously, but, ehm…  You can--you can sleep in my bed.” He offered haltingly, “If you want.”  
         “Sure; why not?” Thomas smiled back at him, relishing the color that came to his cheeks as he looked away.  
         “Obviously, I don’t mean that we’re gonna,” the nervous man gesticulated frantically, not wanting to say it, “I just want you to sleep with me.” He made a frustrated noise at himself.  “I mean actually _sleep_.”  
         “I know.”  Thomas nodded, holding in his urge to chuckle at him.  “I’ll be in in a minute.”  
         “Uh, okay…  I’ll, uh, just go now, then.  Good night.”  He strode quickly back to his room, Thomas being able to hear him bury himself beneath the sheets.  
         The pleasant smirk dropped off his lips though as another thought occurred to him…  After the events of earlier it wasn’t like it was something he could just completely discount.  Because Guy-Man had more often than not been the one to initiate anything intimate and…  Thomas didn’t really have much by way of resistance, admittedly.  Feeling his heart pound in his chest, he realized all too late that this question in his mind was begged from the very beginning.  
         Lifting his phone to his ear he selected the option to change his outgoing message, “You’ve reached Thomas Bangalter, still in 2001, I’ll get back to you when I can.  Uh, to my Darling…” he lowered his voice to make sure Guy-Man in the other room couldn’t hear  “Is it cheating if it’s the same person?  I really need to know.”  Thomas gave a long pause, “Because, Darling, I love you no matter what time it is.” he chuckled stupidly.  “I’ve been trying not to be gross on these outgoing messages, but I failed this time.”  
          Thomas saved the message and wandered into Guy-Man’s room.  He made sure to turn off the alarm in to prevent Guy-Man from trying to obliterate his only means of communication with the future.  Depositing his phone on the bedside table, he walked around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the sheets, slipping in easily next to him.  At first, Thomas thought Guy-Man had already fallen asleep, but he rolled over to face him, banishing that idea.  
          “Thomas…?” he started and Thomas knew immediately what he wanted.  
         “You don’t have to ask, Darling.”  
         “D-Don’t call me that.” Guy-Man told him as he hid his face in his pillow.  “I-It’s not that I don’t like it, but…”  
         “I know.” Thomas rolled to lay on his stomach, supporting himself on his elbows as he leaned closer to his bedmate.  
         Lifting his face from the pillow, Guy-Man kissed him once.  Then again and again, “I’m greedy.” he said in spite of himself.  
         “You can have as many as you want.”  
         “Don’t tell me that.”  
         “I cannot possibly see this being a bad thing since all you seem to want is more.” Thomas indicated shortly before Guy-Man shut him up with another kiss.  
         “Good night.” Guy-Man told him again, settling back down into the bed and turning his back to his bedmate.  
         “Same to you.” Thomas grinned with bliss, dropping down to his pillow and letting sleep swallow him.

***

         The following day, Guy-Man had risen before Thomas, a rare occurrence at his current age, but not for his elder counterpart.  By the note left on his phone it appeared he was visiting his mother again and was going to be with Paul for the rest of the day.  The note invited him to have fun with any food he might want but not to trash the place.  
          _Because I’m so a nineteen-year-old rockstar._  Thomas thought at the note, but maybe he would “trash” the place for his own amusement…  First though, he appeared to have a missed call and message.  
          “You have:  One unheard message.  First unheard message.”  
         “I’ll get to your question in a minute.”  Guy-Manuel’s voice spilled into his ear, he pausing for just a moment before starting again in a contrite tone, “Hi, Thomas…  I don’t think I’ve started any of these messages like that.  I flew out to talk to that guy and he helped me figure some numbers.  You’ve got two or three days tops, counting today since we had this conversation yesterday, or…  Mn, since he says right now the two streams are in sync with each other and we’re experiencing each day simultaneously just in different streams, March twentieth is going to be your last day.  Hopefully.  Wibbly-Wobbly was used again.”  Guy-Manuel took another long pause, “It felt like you were there for so much longer than eleven days…”  Thomas could imagine the way his laugh-lined face creased in deep thought.  “That’s all I got for you.” Guy-Manuel began again, “I’ll see you in a few days.”  
         “End of message.”  The phone voice informed him.  
         “You never answered my question, fucker.” Thomas fondly griped, shaking his head.  It was likely he was going to call again as it appeared he had merely forgotten to answer his question rather than having foregone it.  Either way, Guy-Man was out and it wasn’t likely Guy-Manuel was going to call him again soon…  Might as well entertain himself somehow.

  
         “Thomas, why the fuck are you wearing that?”  Guy-Man asked upon entering his unusually dark flat.  Well, it was past sunset, so it was normally dark at that time, but usually some kind of light filtered in from the surrounding city.  
         The silver-headed, albeit, fleshy robot turned his head to look at him from the television.  Obviously his expression was unreadable, but somehow Guy-Man didn’t doubt that his expression beneath the helmet was equally flat.  It took him awhile to ascertain that his apartment did not look the way it had upon his departure that morning; the main difference being that Thomas had put away the mattress he been using Oh, wait, the windows appeared to all be covered by individual slips of paper with something written on them…  Still, that was not the most interesting thing.  
          “Are you…  Are you naked?!”  Guy-Man rushed over to his friend and was actually quite relieved to see that, no, he wasn’t naked, but he was pretty close…  “Please tell me you have something on under that towel…”  
         Hearing Thomas chuckle underneath, his helmet meanwhile displayed “NOPE” across the screen.  What the fuck was wrong with this man?  
         “And what the fuck did you do to my windows?!”  He rushed again over to the next point of interest, “What the…?” were the only syllables that fell from his lips as he grabbed down one of the slips and read what was on it.  “Your handwriting is still atrocious, but I’m going to assume that says ‘Daft’ and you seem to have drawn a wealth of anarchy symbols here…”  Turning his head slowly he hissed at Thomas over his shoulder, “I’m never fucking leaving you alone in this apartment again.”  
         The “robot” on the couch laughed, his shoulders shaking up and down with each wave of merriment.  
         “I don’t even know what the fuck is going on!  Why?!”  He ripped down several of the papers and crumpled them up,  “Were you that fucking bored?!”  
         The robot slowly nodded, still laughing.  
         “What the fuck, dude?!  Where did you even get all the paper for this ‘daft’, punky tr…”  Guy-Man’s ire suddenly all faded at once and he stared down at his friend, his mouth hanging open.  As Thomas’s laughter redoubled he dropped the papers onto him and growled, “I hate you.” as he narrowed his eyes.  
         As he calmed himself, Thomas leaned around Guy-Man to collect the bottle wine he had opened and inserted a straw into.  Guy-Man meanwhile watched him as he took the straw and fit it into the slot he had for a mouth and witnessed him sip wine through the slot.  Upon further inspection of the coffee table, next to his own helmet was what appeared to be a stubbed-out joint in the ashtray.  
         “Well,” Guy-Man picked up the joint and held it to his lips before he fished a lighter out of his pocket.  “Pass the wine.” he plopped down on the couch as Thomas did as asked and he lit his joint.  “You still have to clean up this mess.”  He took a sip of his wine and leaned away as Thomas attempted to take it back, nearly blind in his helmet.  “Nope, you ‘trashed’ my apartment, literally.” he chuckled.  
         “Fuck.” came from under the helmet.  
         “I need to do more work on that set…  Performance is tomorrow.”  Guy-Man spoke as he shifted to lay his legs over Thomas’s lap.  The man reached one last evaded time for the wine bottle and gave up, Guy-Man sniggering.  “Hm…”  Dragging himself closer to Thomas, the older man turned his covered head to get a better look at him.  He scoffed at himself for even thinking of this, but all the same, he reached to tip the helmet up far enough to reveal Thomas’s smile.  They kissed briefly before Thomas took the helmet off and set it aside.  Before he could deepen the kiss, however, Guy-Man pulled away.  “No, you trashed my flat.”  
         “Ugh.” Thomas grunted in mock annoyance, resting back on the couch with a fond expression.

           
         “I think you should switch there.”  Thomas asserted at around one in the morning as Guy-Man practiced his set; between the couch and his now, he was convinced to put more substantial clothing on as the towel was just not cutting it.  He tapped the third vinyl in the stack Guy-Man had by his desk and found his hand readily smacked away.  
         “Are _you_ performing, Thomas?” Guy-Man growled, “I already threw out half what I wanted because _you_ said they were bad choices.”  
         “I didn’t say they were bad choices!”  
         “No but you did that stupid little--” Guy-Man squinted his eyes in mock of Thomas’s short-sighted vision and hung his mouth open, “‘uh, uh, I don’t know, man.  It’s not what I would do’--bullshit!”  
          “It’s your fault for listening to my opinion, then.”  Thomas pointed out.  
          “Ugh!  Why do I put up with you?”  Guy-Man walked away from his table and took his headphones from his neck to consult his music collection again.  “Either shut your trap or leave the room.” Guy-Man made a tetchy noise in the back of his throat, throwing his hair over his shoulder.  “We can’t all be fucking geniuses.”  
         Thomas rolled his eyes, “You’re the one that asked me to help.”  
         “Help and direct are two different things.” Guy-Man asserted in his usual choleric tone of voice; this voice came not long before Thomas about to in earnest have his talking privileges revoked.  Though, as he doubted Guy-Man at this age kept anything by way of gags handy there was no real danger of that.  “I’m surprised you after all this time have only gotten worse with that.”  
         “It’s your discretion what you listen to and don’t.   This is your set and there’s nothing I can do about it, why does my opinion suddenly matter?”  
         “Uh…”  Guy-Man had no answer and raised his shoulders, “I’m going to use this one.” he removed a sleeve he had only just put back and added it atop his stack.  
         Returning back to his desk and putting his headphones around his neck once more, he started his track over.  In the end, he transitioned to one of the vinyls Thomas had explicitly suggested against and found Thomas’s face slack with appreciation at his mix.  It wasn’t often that Guy-Man called his own skills into question and how was he supposed to ignore the opinion of a man who had been doing this for a significantly longer time?  However, by his earlier admission of it having been years, maybe he had less weight in the situation than previously thought.  
         “And you doubted me.” Guy-Man allowed himself a conceited chuckle.  
         “I never doubted you, I offered my opinion.” Thomas clarified, “You’re talented too, don’t sell yourself short.”  
         “It’s hard for me to discount what you say considering how long it’s been…”  Guy-Man confessed for Thomas’s meditation.  
         “It always is.” Thomas agreed, watching as Guy-Man discarded the last few vinyls he had been on the fence about.  “This is a killer set you have here.”  
         “Of course it is.” Guy-Man sniffed, “I’m its mastermind.”  he smirked as he plucked a vinyl from his pile and put it on his table.  
         As the sounds of a familiar arrangements of beats and scratches met Thomas’s ears and chuckled, “Yeah, you’re the ‘mastermind’ of this mess.”  
          Guy-Man added a few more scratches, mixing it over top a Prince track, watching as Thomas grinned from ear to ear and shook his head, “I’ve always liked ‘Spinal Beats’.” Guy-Man chuckled, letting the one vinyl continue to play.  
          “Use some Crydamoure stuff,” Thomas snorted, waving his hands, “You know as well as I do that my Roulé shit ain’t shit.”  
          Guy-Man scratched back and forth in a parody of the beginning of the very song playing over Thomas’s voice, “IIIII,” Guy-Man began, momentarily filling the void with his voice as he flipped the record over to the A-Side for “Spinal Scratch” and it’s more formal melody.  He amped up the volume and treble, bobbing his head along as the infectious tune overtook the room, “don’t gotta listen t’ yooooooou!”  
          Catching his face in his hands, Thomas laughed down towards the floor, the nostalgia of the moment overtaking him.  For a man who looked so serious more often than not, he was nothing, but a ball of goofiness underneath.  Moreover, he frequently milked the fact that he was absolutely hopeless at carrying a tune with his voice.  
         “Don’t gotta!”  Guy-Man continued speaking at each scratching interval of the song, “Not gonna!”  
         “Stop!”  Thomas pleaded, “You’re terrible!”  
         “Nope!”  Guy-Man flipped the record back over to its B-Side, beginning to playfully beatbox along with it.  The older man laughed harder, shaking his head “See what you’ve done, Thomas?  I’m a monster.” Guy-Man gave him a toothy smirk.  
         “You’re an idiot.” Thomas quietly laughed into his hands, hearing Guy-Man walk over to him and feeling him run his fingers through his hair.

  
         By four in the morning, Guy-Man was asleep, curled up beneath the warm blankets of his bed.  He had started cuddled against Thomas’s side, but as Thomas moved to wander about the apartment, he couldn’t be roused and made himself comfortable by his lonesome.  
          The older man’s mind was awash with so many things.  He was going to have to tell Guy-Man he was leaving very soon, he wasn’t entirely sure of how he would react to that.  Surely, Guy-Man had long assessed that he wasn’t staying, but feeling how close the skeptical man had grown to him in such a short period of time…  Thomas couldn’t imagine if things were reversed.  If Guy-Manuel had come to him and…  He snorted, Guy-Manuel would never have been this stupid.  Or so he told himself, momentarily believing the constructed lie that he built up around their friends that he wasn’t half as invested as Thomas was.  
         He needed to stop worrying and switch his mind off.  He needed sleep and as the night was already beginning to draw to a close, people across the way being roused for their early jobs, he realized he was going to need a lot of it.  After all, he had told Guy-Man he was coming to watch his set tomorrow and Thomas _knew_ Guy-Man’s usual mood afterwards was anything other than tame.  He was going to be a handful, certainly.  Not like he couldn’t remember feeling the rush of a show well-done…  It was a very unique high and Thomas didn’t want to bring it down just because he had been a silly old man and spent the whole night thinking.  
         With a grunt, he dialed his voicemail one more time to change the outgoing message, “You’ve reached Thomas Bangalter.  In 2001, I’ll get back to you when I can.  Darling, you didn’t answer my question.”  he saved the message and stalked back to Guy-Man’s room.  
         At least, he began to remind himself, he would be able to fall asleep with relative ease next to Guy-Man.  He drew back the sheets with a yawn, hearing Guy-Man moan quietly and roll away from the cold air in his sleep.  Thomas slipped in easily next to him and threw the covers back around himself, only vaguely aware of his partner’s movement as he fell into sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

         Unlike days prior, Thomas eased himself into wakefulness.  It was warm, quiet and there was a familiar weight on his chest.  Taking in a deep breath, he raised his arm around the warm weight’s shoulders and stroked a shock of fluffy hair.  Keeping his eyes closed, it was easy to make himself believe that he was back home.  His fingers wandered from the soft hair to the bare skin of Guy-Man’s back, drawing lazy circles.  
         “Mmn,” the other man shifted, taking in his first long breath of the morning and sighing, “that tickles.” he groggily commented.  Guy-Man nuzzled against Thomas’s chest, the pleasant musk of his soap still clinging to his hair and skin.  
         Yeah, if Thomas kept his eyes closed, this was home.  
         “Guy…”  Thomas cleared his throat, “Did you just fart?”  
         “Maybe.”  
         Exactly like home.  
         “I now must vacate the premises.” the taller man moved to get out of bed, but found the once placid weight on his chest threw his arms around him and kept him in one place.  
         “You’re under house arrest.” Guy-Man said through a yawn.  
         “What was my infraction, officer?” Thomas gave up, relaxing back into the bed, his eyes still closed and a smile curving his lips.  
         “Just ‘cause.”  
         “That’s not a reason!”  
         “Is that a gun in your pants?”  
         “What?  No!”  
         “Nope, it’s a gun.”  Guy-Man casually decided, “I’m going to have to confiscate that.” his hand laid on top of the cylindrical protrusion, fingers nigh threatening to close around it.  
         There was a tense moment between them then…  The illusion of being home was so easily broken.  
         “Well?  Officer?”  
         “Uh…  I’ll just say conspiracy to assault a police officer…” Guy-Man chuckled, uncomfortable as he removed his hand back to more appropriate areas.  
         “I never conspired to assault anyone, that was the ‘gun’s’ idea.”  
         “Put it away or I will be forced to take counteractive measures.”  
         “Uhm, uh, like what?” Thomas swallowed, feeling that devious one of Guy-Man’s hands slip inside the tent of the sweatpants he was wearing.  
         “This.”  
         “ **Eeyowch**!” Thomas shoved Guy-Man off him after feeling the skin of his inner thigh be pinched and twisted.  “You know as well as I do that shit doesn’t work!”  
          “Yes, but _I_ had fun.” the younger man sniggered laying down next to his friend and propping himself up on an elbow.  
          “Sadistic bastard.” Thomas muttered.  
         “Says the man that has apparently bound me up with duct tape before…?”  
         “But _I_ had fun.” the older man smirked over to him.  
         “I always knew you were a freak.” Guy-Man sat up and stretched his arms as he yawned.  
         Thomas chuckled under his breath, “I prefer the word ‘complicated’.”  
         “You know I mean freak in the best way possible.”  
         “I know.”  Thomas chuckled again, “Lovingly.”  
         “Uh…”  
         “Er, well, I-I meant that it’s not something you ever stopped calling me, and…  Uh…”  
         “Oh…  Right.”  
         Just as a frown threatened Thomas’s face, he heard his phone vibrate on the adjacent table, “Could you hand me that?”  Wordless, Guy-Man picked up the phone and tossed it to him, it landing smack on his chest. “Thanks, man.”  Seeing he had a missed call and an accompanying voicemail, he dialed his inbox and held it to his ear.  
        “Hopefully you finally answered my question.”  Thomas muttered under his breath.  More to himself than anyone else.  
         “What question?”  Guy-Man enquired with an arch of his eyebrow..  
         “Nothing you need to worry about.” Thomas chuckled, patting his head.  
         “Do I still hate it when you do that?” he deadpanned to his friend.  
         “Not really.” the older man smirked, “As if you don’t like your hair being played with.”  
         “Having my hair played with and being patted on the head by a smug bastard are two different things.”  
         “I’m not being smug, it’s just future stuff.  I don’t want to spoil any surprises.” Thomas chuckled, _Though the marriage thing was kinda a big one…_  
         Guy-Man climbed out of the bed and walked across the hall, not even bothering to close the door behind himself to take his morning piss.  Suddenly, there was a loud sneeze and then a “Fucking, shit!”  
         Thomas, meanwhile, laughed almost missing the usual intro from his phone.  
          “You have:  One unheard message.  First unheard message.”  As it rattled itself off, Thomas reached over to the bedside table, snagging one of Guy-Man’s cigarettes and his lighter.  He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it; he also picked up the ashtray to sit it on his stomach as the message began.  
         “I don’t want to spoil any surprises.”  Guy-Manuel responded smugly, “Use your best judgement as I have been saying this _whole_ fucking time!”  
         “End of message.  Inbox is fifty-percent full.  Consider erasing messages or saving them in the archive.”  
         Instead of listening to the phone, he went to change his outgoing message, “That still doesn’t answer my question!  Call me back!”  He saved the outgoing message and waited for Guy-Manuel to call him back.  Of course, there was no guarantee that it was going to be any time soon.  Hopefully, he wasn’t going to wait an entire day to get back to him this time.  
         Guy-Man at that time wandered back in, his eyes instantly locking on to the cigarette between Thomas’s lips.  The older man sensing the unadulterated lust in his gaze, he took a drag and held it out between two fingers.  He let the smoke out of his nose as his friend plucked it from his fingers and took his own drag off it.  
         “You didn’t hit the ceiling, did you?” Thomas joked.  
         “Thankfully not, the cumstains up there are bad enough.” the smartass responded.  
         “I’m pretty sure that’s soap.” the other man laughed.  
         “No, I’m just that good.” Guy-Man smirked, passing the cigarette back to Thomas as he dug under his bed for something more potent.  
         “At forgetting you still have shampoo in your hair before whipping your hair around to Primal Scream.”  
         “Shut up.” Guy-Man ordered, rolling a joint in his lap.  “Hey, are they still together?”  
         “Released an album just last year.”  Thomas shrugged.  
         “Sweet!”  
         “I’m hungry…” the older man commented as he smelled the first wafts of the thick smoke coming from Guy-Man’s mouth.  
         “You better eat now before _I_ get hungry.” Guy-Man sniggered, putting a fire under Thomas to leave the bed and dart for the kitchen.

  
         Thomas didn’t really pay much attention to the time between the bed and gathering Guy-Man’s materials together to transfer to the venue.  The potent weed had more to do with it than anything else.  
         “Dude, you’re a fucking lightweight.” Guy-Man laughed, putting his equipment in the back of his car.  
         “Do you know when the last time I smoked was?”  
         “Last night.” he dodged a swift strike that was meant for his head with a cocksure “Hah!”  
         “Five years!”  Thomas answered his own question, “I don’t even smoke cigarettes anymore.” he took another drag off the second cigarette he had snagged from Guy-Man that day.  
         “Obviously.” he giggled.  
         “I always thought you would be the death of me.” Thomas grumbled, closing the trunk of the car.

  
         Not long after that it became a mad dash to the venue and setting up, there was just one snare along the way.  
         “Who’s this guy?” the doorman asked, jerking a thumb at Thomas and it suddenly becoming a very surreal moment.  
         “My PA, he’s cool.”  Guy-Man assured, “He’s got all my shit, who else would he be?”  
         Thomas joylessly grinned at the doorman from behind his sunglasses, his arms overladen with a box of vinyls and cables slung over his shoulder.  Though, maybe he should’ve refrained from such an obviously patronizing expression as the living roadblock narrowed his eyes as if to say “I don’t know”.  
          “He’s not a bum, I swear.”  While Thomas was not appreciative of the jibe it at least made the stoic man stopping him laugh and wave them on in.  
          Being officially Guy-Man’s “PA” for the evening was basically just the nice way of Guy-Man telling him “You’re going to be my bitch for a couple hours”.  While Guy-Man was anything other than lazy when it came to setting up, this didn’t mean that he didn’t have Thomas doing some rather irritating grunt work.  
         “Put this here.” and “Lay that there.” and  “Run this to there.”, then, of course, this one was Thomas’s favorite, “Can you put that there?  No, never mind; yes I want you to pick it back up and put it back where I had it before.  No, nevermind, it was better where it was that one time.  What do you mean you don’t remember where that was?  Fuck, what are you even good for?” probably his least favorite, actually…  The one he never minded getting though was, “Get me a drink from the bar and whatever you want.” as Guy-Man passed him a substantial amount of notes.  
         “Guy, I hate to tell you this, but we’re setting up for a three hour set, not deciding on a theme for the living room.”  Thomas finally informed him, sipping on the liquor in his hand as he rearranged some cables to be taped down.  “A theme where we’re going to screw all the furniture to the floor and never move it again…”  
         “Hey, do I criticize you when you’re setting up?  No.”  Though, Guy-Man couldn’t help but shudder inside at the very idea at such domesticity.  
         “Most of the time I do it myself anyway.” Thomas pointed out.  
         “I help…”  
         “By getting me weed and drinks.” he pulled his sunglasses down from his hair back over his eyes.  And, Guy-Man also had great muscles for the lugging part of getting everything inside.  It was less like the laziness Thomas was teasing with and more just Guy-Man didn’t know what Thomas wanted and so just let him do his own thing and stayed out of his hair.  
         “Do we have, like, people for this shit when we get older?”  
         “I’m not answering that question.” Thomas waved him off, taking his phone from his pocket to see that he had a missed call.  “One second, you left me a message.” Making sure he was out of anyone’s line of sight other than his friend’s he held the phone to his ear.  
         “You have:  One unheard message.  First unheard message.”  
         “My answer means my answer is irrelevant.”  Guy-Manuel clarified.  
         “End of message.  Inbox is--”  Yeah, yeah, yeah.  
         “Why do you have to be so cryptic all the time?  Call me back.”  Thomas saved the outgoing and walked back over the set-up.  
         “Anything interesting?”  Guy-Man asked.  
         “You’re always interesting if not slightly roundabout.”  
         “Sounds like me.”  
         Thomas’s phone vibrated.  Wow, were they really doing this?  He walked away to the corner again.  
         “I thought being mysterious was good thing?  You sound like one of our fans, Bangalter.”  
         “End of message.  Inb--”  
         “I need a straight-up answer!  I don’t want to…  I don’t want…  Ugh, you know what I’m trying to say!  Call me back…” he clicked save.  
         “You okay over there?” Guy-Man asked, putting his tracks in the order they were going to appear in.  
         “I’m fine, Guy.”  
         “Just letting you know, you’re raising your voice a little.” he informed, doing a soundcheck with his equipment.  “I don’t know what I’m saying to you, but I doubt it’s good.”  
         “I’m fine.”  his phone vibrated, he dialed his voicemail.  
         “Thomas, I am telling you that you are with me!  Me of all fucking people!  Shit _happens_ and it’s me…”  Guy-Manuel grunted, Thomas could bet, at war with what he wanted to say, “Me that fucking…”  Thomas heard a voice away from the receiver and Guy-Manuel called off, “Nothing’s wrong!  He’s fine!”  So, he was with someone else who knew who he was talking to...  “I’ll call you back later.  Okay, so what--”  
         “End of message. In--”  
         “You’ve reached Thomas Bangalter, I’ll be back with reception soon.  Please leave a message.”  Saving the message, he lifted his gaze from his phone to find Guy-Man standing only a few feet from him, his arms crossed over his chest.  “What’s up?”  
         “Nothing, you look upset about something.”  
         “I’m not upset.”  
         “Liar.”  Ever-perceptive Guy-Man.  Of course, it was a reason to love him as much as he did.  
         “I’m…” he paused, considering whether or not it would be a good idea to talk about this.  It was just Guy-Man however, he might have been younger, but yeah, still him. “I’m conflicted.”  Thomas pocketed his phone and sighed.  
         “You’re more than conflicted if you look this, eh…”  Guy-Man snapped his fingers as he tried to come up with an adequate descriptor, “Somber!  That’s it.  ...What are you smiling about?”  
         Thomas shook his head, turning his new grin towards the floor, “You, as usual.”  
         “Hah, you still haven’t told me what’s wrong.”  
         “It’s not important.”  
         “I don’t care.” he shrugged, “You’re obviously troubled.”  
         “Just future stuff.”  
         “Did we just have a fight through voicemails?” Guy-Man guessed with a humorous snort.  
         “No, of course not.”  Thomas laughed, “There was something important you wanted to tell me, but you didn’t say it, because other people were around.”  
          “Sounds like me.”  Guy-Man huffed, “Ah, but if shit is--”  
          “--Only meant for me, it’s only meant for me.  I know.”  And there were plenty of reasons to keep their relationship as private as possible.  Nobody outside of their intimate circle needed to know shit and that was just the way they liked it.  
          “I feel like we have this conversation a lot.”  
          “We’ve been having it a lot ever since we became friends, Guy.”  Thomas leaned in closer to him.  He noticed the self-conscious glance over his shoulder that Guy-Man did before looking back to him.  
          “It happens when I have a physically demonstrative and social friend.” Guy-Man pointed out with a shrug of his shoulders.  
         “Aren’t those some _big_ words for you?”  Thomas teased, laughing as Guy-Man shoved him hard against the wall before re-crossing his arms over his chest.  
         “We talk like the people we like.”  
         “Oh, and so you like me?”  Thomas smirked, getting a little, devious simper back.  
         “I don’t put up with you for nothing, Bangalter.”  
         Wanting to kiss him, Thomas bit his lip instead, his aged partner might’ve understood the meaning behind the fidget, but he wouldn’t blame Guy-Man if he didn’t.  
         “Something you want to say?”  
         Thomas shook his head, “Something I want to _do_.”  
         Nodding, Guy-Man cast another glance over his shoulder and back to Thomas, “No one’s watching.”  
         “I don’t want to risk it.”  
         “No one knows who we are right now.”  Guy-Man’s smirk grew into a wider smile, “And you don’t look like yourself anyway.”  
         Thomas raised his brows and nodded, “True, true.”  
         “How many more times will we get this chance?”  Guy-Man posed, stepping closer and dropping his arms to his sides.  
         Leaning in, they pressed their lips flush, Guy-Man following-up with his traditional array of smaller, sweeter kisses.  Feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, Thomas ignored it, the two trying to sink further back into the recess of the sheltered corner.  The corner itself was the storage for the house’s personal sound equipment, and now a place that they had enough privacy to put their hands on each other’s hips.  With Thomas leaning back against the wall of monitors, and Guy-Man pressing his weight to Thomas’s front, they stood staring down at each other.  
         “Do I actually make fun of you for your thinning hair?”  The shorter man asked out of left field.  
         “Occasionally, it’s not really something you’ve ever cared about.”  
         “It’s distinguished.”  Guy-Man followed-up, raising a finger to poke the mole just barely peeking out of Thomas’s shaggy beard.  “This is going to sound weird of me…”  His tongue flitted out over his lips as he thought, focusing his eyes less on Thomas’s and more on the expanse of his cheek he was beginning to stroke.  
         “I’m okay with weird.”  the older man muttered, his hands sliding around to Guy-Man’s back to hold him in an embrace.  
         “I don’t want you to leave.”  He admitted, “I know you don’t feel the same on that matter, because, hey, when you leave, you’re just going back to me and it would _really_ bite me in the ass in the future if you didn’t come back.”  He chuckled under his breath, his lips pulling back to show his teeth in an almost-grin.  “But I think I might’ve… You _know_ , already.”  
         Thomas tightened their hug.  
         “You’ve always been special, I mean…  Heh, just our friendship alone is something unique and…”  He rolled his eyes, scoffing, “There’s something about us.” Guy-Man had to force the words out through a chuckle, he felt so utterly absurd, but he knew Thomas wouldn’t give more than a single fuck if that.  “Seeing the man you become,” he shook his head slowly, finally flicking those blue eyes Thomas loved so well to his own, “I would be stupid to not…  Not to…  Fall in love, of course…  With you.”  
          Swallowing thickly, Thomas bent to meet Guy-Man half-way as he lifted himself up on his toes for them to kiss again.  He firmly pressed his fingers into Guy-Man’s soft sides, pulling him as close as humanly possible.  They peppered each other with kisses, nothing more needing to be really said on the matter for the moment.  
         “We really need to finish your set-up, they’ll be opening the doors soon.”  Thomas informed him, kissing his temple.  “And neither of us really want to be caught like this.”  
         “Yeah.”  Guy-Man agreed, disentangling himself from his friend and stepping away.  “We got a great night ahead of us.”  he tossed Thomas another smile before picking up a length of cables from atop a monitor and carrying it out to the stage.

  
         As Thomas did not so much want to be showing off his anachronistic phone in front of a whole crowd of people, after helping Guy-Man finish his set-up, he didn’t have time to check the newest voicemail left on his phone.  People began to trickle in and fill up the bar and it was at this time that he made himself scarce from Guy-Man’s presence.  Though the younger man didn’t properly seem to grasp why, he gave Thomas the space he had requested.  The older man was repetitively impressing “if we’re seen together, and our fans know who you are are here, people will assume” they didn’t need reports of Thomas being in two places simultaneously…  
         “Thomas, nobody knows what we look like anymore!  We haven’t toured in forever and all of our promotional material is just robots!”  Guy-Man had rebutted each time or with “But you’re so much older than you’re supposed to be, nobody will assume anything!”.  After some babbling about the internet and what it’s like in the future, Guy-Man supposed he understood.  Some fan, someday, would be posting pictures of “the day I saw Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo do a solo gig” and then some _other_ fans would see the pictures and start to question “Who is that guy?  He looks like Thomas…”  Then the fans of a certain popular television show would begin to assume things too, but still…  “Fuck those people, what have they got, conspiracy theories?”  
         Thomas shook his head, “It doesn’t matter.” he said, stalking away to get lost among the people as another anonymous face.  Guy-Man frowned at his back and shrugged, taking his place up at his turntables and putting his headphones up on his head, but off his ears.  In the ear he was not going to use for monitoring his sound, he placed an earplug and checked his watch shortly after.  He didn’t have that much longer before the club was really going to get going and besides, a few warm up guys were going to be using his equipment first.  He unplugged his headphones from the system and stuck the jack in his pocket as he caught sight of the first guy and waved him over.

  
         Aw yeah, this was what Thomas had _really_ been missing.  For the prior thirty minutes Thomas had been mindlessly dancing.  It hadn’t taken him long to blow through a couple of drinks--the only drinks he would need for the whole evening--and get his serious dance on.  It felt good for his out-dated dancemoves to be back in style…  Okay, maybe not back in style just more in style than they were in 2014.  He couldn’t help that he had done most of his hardcore dancing in the nineties and had unfortunately stopped his repertoire growth there.  Nonetheless, he felt himself dancing like he hadn’t had the opportunity to in quite some time.  The only thing that would’ve made the moments more perfect was--  
         “S’up, Paris…”  Guy-Man’s voice came over the microphone and he awkwardly--or enigmatically, depending upon who you were--said nothing more as he got started with his set.  With his usual expression of calm condescension, Guy-Man bobbed his body up and down, sliding from side to side of his table.  His hands molested the table in a variety of ways, all of which made the crowd more and more excited.  Ah, Thomas couldn’t even begin to comprehend why Guy-Man doubted himself in the slightest.  
         From that point on, however, Thomas didn’t pay much attention to the fact that the DJ was his best buddy and future husband, he just let the music move him.  His hips gyrated his hands motioned and flew into the air and he screamed when the others in the club did.  There was no point in him fighting the mob mentality that overtook him as forcefully as the music and the energy of the room.  
         A wide grin spread across his face as he felt sweat drip down his brow and--in a moment of seeming insanity--he pulled his shirt off and wiped his face.  He ignored the eyes on him that he knew were there.  He ignored that instead of being admiring as they had been in his early twenties, they were probably twisted with disgust.  He was sweaty, he was hairy he was _old_.  
          _You’re not fucking old because_ I’m _not fucking old!_ He heard Guy-Manuel’s voice in his head.   _You’re an otter, so what?  Get over it._  He heard again, though, Thomas remembered the first time Guy-Manuel had called him that, he hit him afterwards with a great deal of laughter.   _If they don’t like that you’re human, fuck em._  
         Clutching his shirt above his head, he kept dancing, one hand dragging itself down to his hips where his belt kept his pants around his bones.  He hooked his thumb into the space between the denim and his glossy skin as he lowered his other hand to drop the shirt over his angular shoulder.  Guy-Manuel’s encouragements always spurred something in him, a need to prove he gave just as few fucks as his lover did.  They could all gawk at the middle-aged man having the time of his life in a club, because they all knew that they weren’t going to be half the man he was by the time they were his age.  
         Peeling his eyes open in the dark room that swam with rotating lights gelled to all different colors, he let out a joyous whoop, feeling half his true age.  His eyes fell upon Guy-Man, his hair fallen and keeping Thomas from view as he was so focused on his set and crossfading his records.  He loved seeing him in his element, for those couple of minutes or hours that it lasted, Guy-Man was the least awkward person on the planet.  He was all calculation, soul and sex-appeal.  And great hair; great hair was not to be forgotten.  
         “Turn up the bass!” Thomas shouted through the noise and by someone else’s ear.  They looked at him queerly while Guy-Man acquiesced and dialed up the bass, amazingly able to pick Thomas’s voice out of the crowd..  Thomas smirked at the man standing close to him that gave him the look of “who do you think you are?” before going back to losing his head to his friend’s sick beats.  
         “Hey, sexy!” Thomas called, out of his mind with adrenaline and anonymity.  Again, that same man next to him, gave him a queer look, he nudging his friends he was with.  
         As if surprised, Guy-Man popped up from his table, tossing his hair wildly over to his other shoulder.  Mock disgust was written all over his face as his hostile blue eyes raked down Thomas’s form.  As Thomas heard the sniggering of people who would _never_ understand next to him, he smiled to the other man and bit his lip.  Guy-Man’s eyes, meanwhile, sung as if he had never seen him naked and sweaty before and as Thomas caught his eyes, a spark of unadulterated lust jumped between them.  
         Thomas puckered his lips at him, laughing as Guy-Man cringed back and buried himself back into his work.  The group of people next to Thomas laughed again and he snorted--if they only knew…

  
        From the very moment Thomas heard Guy-Man announce  “My last one, Paris…” at two in the morning.  He felt a new kind of electricity in his body.  A most unwelcome one, considering his current situation.  In recent years, the end of something so energetic usually ended in joyous congress with his husband…  As Thomas felt some rather lustful jitters come to his body, he grunted to himself, nearly ashamed at this acquired habit.  
         Rubbing his face and blushing at his own excitement, Thomas felt it was time to maybe splash some water on his face.  He shuffled off to the bathroom, pulling his shirt on over his torso as he went for the sink.  With a sigh, he sloshed cold water over his bearded face and through his thinning hair.  Curious, he went to his pocket and pulled out his phone in the vacant room.  His eyebrows flew up with a good deal of surprise as he read the text on his phone telling him he had two new voicemails.  The one had been sitting for hours and he had expected it, but the second one really made him wonder as it too appeared to be from Guy-Manuel.  
         “You have:  Two unheard messages.”  The phone said.  
         “First unheard message.”  
         “Thomas, I really don’t have time for this…  I would love to say more, but,” Guy-Manuel scoffed and it was followed up by a couple grunts and moans that made Thomas smile.  There was something about Guy-Manuel being too frustrated with himself to speak that was inexplicably adorable.  Though, depending upon the situation it also had the capacity to be one of the most annoying things he did. “But all I can say now is…  Fuck…”  
         From out in the hallway, Thomas heard the laughter of people coming to the bathroom.  
         “All I can say is ‘do what you want, because I want it too’.”  
         “End of message.”  Thomas’s mouth hung open.  Had Guy-Manuel meant that he had _wanted_ …  No, he didn’t think that was possible.  Well, just maybe?  Perhaps?  
         “Second unheard message.”  
         “As I was going to say earlier, Thomas, I--”  
         Thomas ended the call as three young men trailed into the bathroom.  He shoved the device into his pocket and greeted them all with a smile as they strolled past him for the stalls.  Though he was irritated that he now couldn’t check that second message, he also felt his earlier excitement returning…  
         “Good night, Paris.” Guy-Man’s voice floated into the bathroom and Thomas knew that was his cue to book it up to the stage and help him pack.  He waded his way through the sea of people all either heading for the bathroom or out the door until he reached his friend.  With a single step from his gangly legs, he was on the stage, Guy-Man smiling broadly at him.  
         “You sure you’re almost forty?  You don’t dance like it.”  the shorter man chuckled, placing all his vinyls back in their sleeves and into their carrying box.  
         “There are a lot of ways I don’t act my age.”  Thomas chuckled, “My dancing between the sheets being another.” with one of his iconic hip thrusts, he smirked and caught Guy-Man’s wide-eyed expression at the floor before his cheeks flushed and he pulled up a line of gaff tape.  
         “Can you help me tear down?” Guy-Man muttered, Thomas frowning for a half-second until he heard his friend add, “So we can get the fuck out of here faster.”  He then scurried off as he coiled a length of cord into a neat circle, moving to store it in the monitor inlet.  As he hung the length with the rest of the others of its size, he felt Thomas slip in behind him, his groin against his backside.  Though above him, he was aware of Thomas leaning to likewise hang a coil of cord, he also noticed the motions his friend’s crotch was making against him.  “Uhm…  Thomas?”  
         The hips froze, “Yes?”  
         “Um…  What are you doing?”  
         “Helping you tear down.” he coyly answered.  
          _More like build up._  Guy-Man thought before commenting further  “It’s very distracting.”  
         “Do you not want me to help?”  
         “No!  No, I meant, I want you to.”  
         “You’re sure?”  
         “Yeah.”  
         “Because I can stop and go wait for you--”  
         “Yes, I’m fucking sure, Thomas!”  Guy-Man bumped his backside against Thomas’s groin.  
         “O-Okay.”  
         “You’re the one that started it.” the shorter man stood up straight, forcing Thomas to do the same as he turned around to face him.  He craned his neck up to look at him, seeing the blush on his cheeks and smiled.  
         “I-I don’t think we’re talking about me helping you tear down anymore.” Thomas asserted with small, returned smile.  
         “I don’t think we ever were.”  
         “No, not really, only checking…”  Thomas bit his lower lip, staring down at the man who was mere inches from him.  
         “Something you wanna do, Bangalter?”  Guy-Man smirked.  
         “Yes.”  
         “Tell me.”  
         Thomas stuttered, looking out into the thinning crowd of people that could still see them.  
         “Tell.  Me.”  Guy-Man directed, his smirk as devious as ever.  
         “I just want to kiss you.”  
         “Is that all?”  A still performance-jumpy hand brushed its fingers over Thomas’s thigh, the man they were attached to chuckling under his breath as Thomas closed his eyes.  “I asked, ‘is that all’?” With the same hand, he reached between the legs in front of him and rubbed low on Thomas’s opposite inner-thigh.  
         “N-No, but…”  Thomas sucked in a breath as the hand glided up to his crotch and felt along a ridge that was becoming more and more evident.  “I thought I was supposed to be the distracting one?”  
         “ _This_ presents a considerable distraction, so you still are.”  Guy-Man chuckled, truthfully less confident than he was showing as he molested his friend in the dark corner.  “It must be so cramped in there.”  he commented in a low voice, still running his hand along the stiffness and gauging Thomas’s breathing.  
         “Yes.”  Thomas affirmed, giving a sharp, quiet gasp as Guy-Man wrapped his fingers around him through the tight denim.  He gave a small whimper and cursed himself as his friend let go.  
         “You get off on this kind of shit, don’t you?”  
         “If it offends you, don’t encourage me.” Thomas defensively growled, opening his eyes half way to meet Guy-Man’s gaze.  
         A contrite expression flitted across Guy-Man’s face before he spoke, “I didn’t mean it like that.”  With his opposite arm around the other’s midsection, he pulled him closer.  His hand returned to the hard length that protested its containment and proceeded to rub firmly up and down it.  Thomas gasped and put his arms over Guy-Man’s shoulders, burying his fingers in his hair.  “I should’ve more asked ‘is this okay’?” he heard him sigh and felt his hot breath ruffle his hair, “Or ‘does this feel good’?”  
         “It feels very good.”  Thomas muttered into the nest of hair.  “Its been without attention for hours.”  
         “You’ve been hard this whole time?”  Guy-Man questioned with a modicum of surprise.  
         “Only half.” the taller man explained, “You’re sexy when you perform.” he elaborated in a much quieter voice.  “And I’m so used to…” a chuckle came out of his mouth rather than the rest of that explanation.  
         “You’re em,” Guy-Man paused to clear his throat, “very sexy…  Especially when you dance like that.”  
         “Do I need to make another dance innuendo?”  
         “No, you dancing at all is an innuendo…”  
         “Ssss, you’re starting to chafe me,” Thomas warned, “either stop or--”  
         “Help me move my stuff.”  Guy-Man slid away from him, making sure to press his pelvis to Thomas as he did.  “We’ve wasted enough time, right?”  He threw Thomas a mischievous simper over his shoulder and headed back into the eye of the folks still left at the bar.  With a large grin, Thomas followed after him, hoping the erection laying along his body wasn’t noticeable from far away.

  
         As they bussed the equipment from the venue into the back of Guy-Man’s car, Thomas felt the very familiar urge to frustrate his loved one.  On one particular occasion of passing each other--Guy-Man on his way to the car to set his things down and Thomas on his way back to the venue to gather other bits and pieces--Thomas swooped in and pressed his lips to the side of Guy-Man’s mouth.  
         “Thomas!” Guy-Man exclaimed, swinging his head left and right to be sure no one had seen them.  In this moment of weakness however, he gave his friend an opening for further molestation.  With a yelp, he jolted forward as he felt a strong hand lay itself into his behind.  “Stop that!” he yelled, clutching his heavy things to his chest as he watched Thomas skitter away, the “heheheh” of his chuckle floating on the wind.

  
         “I can see why I get frustrated with you in public.”  Guy-Man grumbled as Thomas had him pressed up against the side of the car.  The heat of his skin created a halo of condensation on the windows in the colder night air.  “I can’t imagine you being any less discreet.”  He bit his lip and sucked in a breath as he felt Thomas’s leg between his begin to rub.  
         “You’re the one that chose to get me going.” Thomas smiled down at him.  
         “Do you do this a lot?”  
         “Which part?”  
         “The against the car where people can _see_ part.”  
         “Not really.”  Thomas conceded, “But we’re both anonymous here.”  
         “True.” Guy-Man lolled his head back against the car, enjoying Thomas’s weight on his chest as he was pressed against the cool metal.  
         “You got through a whole set without a single person yelling ‘fucking Daft Punk’ at you.”  
         Guy-Man laughed jovially, “You have a point!” the laugher then became playfully sniggering, “I thought you said that you were chafing?”  
         “I’m mindless sometimes.” Thomas commented as he continued rutting his erection against Guy-Man’s leg.  “I do what feels good in spite of possible consequences.”  
         “Do I ever call you a dog?”  Guy-Man gasped out a moan as he felt Thomas’s hand snake between them and run up his shirt.  The fingers teased his ribs and soft skin, pulling his shirt up and exposing him to the night air.  “Ah…” Guy-Man felt his dick twitch as Thomas’s clever fingers came to an erect nipple and rolled it softly between them.  
         “Would you believe it if I told you I like it when you call me that?”  Thomas purred into his ear.  
         “You freak.”  Guy-Man turned his head to kiss Thomas’s neck and nip the sensitive flesh.  He was rewarded by a soft moan from his friend, “You like being my bitch?”  
         “A dog does not always have to be the bitch.”  Thomas chuckled menacingly, pinching Guy-Man’s nipple and getting an “Ah!” in response, “I love making you squirm and curse as much as I love being your good boy.”  Truth be told, Thomas felt a little silly at such an admission.    
         “You’re gross.” Guy-Man responded, not knowing how else to process the things being said to him.  
         “Want me to stop?”  
         “No, keep going.”  the shorter man kissed his partner’s jaw, prompting the same man to turn his face to meet their lips in languid, thick kisses.  “Fuck, Bangalter.”  Guy-Man sighed against his lips, becoming more aggressive and sliding his tongue past his aggressors into his mouth.  
         “Who’s the one humping a leg now?”  Thomas pointed out, his breath hot on Guy-Man’s ear as he broke their kiss.  
         “Mmmng, kiss me again.  Ahhh!” A problem Guy-Man had never considered before was that Thomas knew his body very well.  He knew all the perfect ways to frustrate him and tear the cute little cries of pleasure from his lips.  “ _Thomaaaas_.”  he whined, “Stop!”  
         Stepping back from Guy-Man, Thomas tipped his head to the side curiously, placing his hands in his pockets, “What?”  
         “I think…”  Guy-Man began, standing up straight from the car as he raised a finger, “That we need to get back to my place, like _now_ …  Whoa, whoa!”  His hands flew up, stopping Thomas’s advance towards the passenger side of the car.  “My shit’s still in the venue though.”  He let out a boisterous laugh as Thomas bolted back inside the venue, choosing to follow after him to collect the rest of his things.

  
         “You’re a very hale old man.”  Guy-Man commented as he zoomed through the streets of Paris, a cigarette between his fingers.  
         “Still calling me old, kid?” Thomas rebutted, hearing an angry driver honk his horn at them as they cut him off in traffic.  
         “I’m not a kid.” the other man snorted.  
         “I’m not old.” He smirked, “I didn’t think you did old anyway.”  
         “Hey, where you’re from, I’m older than you.”  
         “But now…”  
          “You’re Thomas…”  Guy-Man haltingly spoke, “You’re timeless.” he laughed at himself, “Yes, I always wanted to be that cheesey.”  
         “And you call me hopeless.” Thomas humorously pointed out.  
         “Because you are.”  
         “You are too.”  
         “Takes one to know one.”

  
         “Ahhh…  Oh, Thomas!  Thomas we can’t do this right now!”  
         “Oh, come on, we’re finally at your place!”  
         “Or we would be if you weren’t trying to suck me off in the car park!”  
         “My mouth is nowhere near your dick.”  
         “Aah!”  Guy-Man grumbled and pushed his hand out of his crotch, “You still have to help me carry this shit up.”  
         “Auuugh!”

  
         “Thomas, slow down, I can’t keep up!”  Guy-Man griped as they carried his turntables up the stairs.  “You’re the one going backwards too!”  
         “I’m fine.” Thomas chuckled, Guy-Man rolling his eyes as they got to his floor and had to do some backing Thomas all the way into the wall for Guy-Man to get out his key and open his door.  They carried the cumbersome equipment into the storage room and laid it softly on the ground.  
         It took almost no time it all for Thomas to be back on Guy-Man.  The other man was leaving the room as he came up behind him and assaulted his neck with kisses and his hands sought his skin beneath his clothes.  Chuckling, Guy-Man thrust his hands off him and kept walking, Thomas following him with a glowing smile.  
         “Not yet!  Not yet!” Guy-Man guided, “I’m not leaving my records where the heat or cold can warp them.  Thomas unlatched himself from Guy-Man and sped out the door and down the stairs.  “Don’t twist your ankle!”  he called after him.

  
         “How the hell…?”  Guy-Man questioned, seeing how Thomas had slung the two boxes of vinyls securely to each hip and was beginning to already make his way back to the building, “Aren’t those heavy?”  
         “Yep.”  Thomas affirmed, “I locked your door, these are all the records, nothing else heat sensitive is in your car and help me carry these up!”  Thomas’s mouth somehow sprayed, completely devoid of all stuttering.  
         With a giggle, Guy-Man accepted one of the heavy boxes and started up the stairs as Thomas sighed with relief, “Someone’s needy.”  
         “I’ve been horny for _hours_ and everything in between has not helped that at all.”  Thomas reminded.  
         “It’s cute.”  
         “So you say.”  Thomas grunted as he lugged the stuff up the stairs and into Guy-Man’s open flat.  He waited for Guy-Man to walk in as well before closing the door with his foot and shuffling carefully over to throw the lock.  
         “Thanks, man!”  Guy-Man called back to him.  
         “No problem!”  
         As Thomas followed Guy-Man’s form into the storage room, he set the box of vinyls carefully down on the floor next to where Guy-Man had deposited his own load.  The same man was busy contemplating his collection.  Thomas felt like commenting that it was magnificent, but considering Nicole was still going to be in the picture long after he left, he had better not say anything.  Most of the ones she would convince him to sell would end up being irreplaceable.  
         With a smile and slightly less urgency than the fire brought on earlier, Thomas leaned against him.  Guy-Man appeared to ignore him, pulling a cigarette from his back pocket and lighting it up.  
         “The show was great.”  Thomas commented, sliding around to his back.  He resumed his earlier ministrations of kissing and licking at his neck, feeling the shivers that ran down the other’s body.  
         “I know.” Guy-Man agreed with his best impression of haughtiness.  “Thomas…”  he sighed, leaning back as he felt the long fingers of his friend hide under his clothes again.  They dragged up his skin that still had a thin layer of moisture upon it from the work of lifting heavy objects up the stairs.  He shivered, the fingers caressing both his nipples, a quiet mewling flowed from his lips and he gritted his teeth against further noises.  The silence wasn’t to last long, however as one of the hands trailed down his soft stomach to his belt.  Where he thought it might hinder Bangalter’s sweet fingers, he was surprised to find that he was quite skilled in taking off belts with just one hand.  “Aaah!” he gasped and bit his lip, trying to keep his noises inside as Thomas’s hand fished inside and touched him through his underwear.  “Thomas…” he moaned, growling as he noticed the hand was still going slowly.  He tried to push away from him, to turn around to face him, but found his partner holding him fiercely in place.  
         “It’s my turn.”  Thomas told him darkly, “Tell me what you want.” slowly, he dragged a finger up Guy-Man’s thick hardness in his underwear.  “Tell me you want me to--”  
         “Touch me!”  Guy-Man readily supplied, trying to squirm out of Thomas’s grasp without much conviction.  
         “Touch you where?”  The hand was still teasingly petting the needy, twitching organ as if it were a small bird capable of being damaged with the slightest, sudden move.  
          “Here!” he whined, grasping Thomas’s hand and pressing it resolutely against him as he ground his hips against it.  “No…” He whimpered, feeling Thomas slide his hand out of his grip and he knew he was flushing as the hand immediately returned to push his underwear down and let his erection stand free.  The hot hand closed around him and he gasped, “Oh my…  Oh….”  
         “Fuck my hand.” Thomas commanded, all but spitting his French into his lover’s ear as he pinched his nipple and elicited a high noise from him.  His whole body shuddered and he knew he was going to have a wet spot on his own underwear from all of this.  All the earlier stimulation was coming back to haunt him with along with Guy-Man’s noises and his dick slipping easily in and out of his fist.  
         “Thomas, c-can we move to the bedroom.” Guy-Man questioned, grinding his backside onto the protrusion in Thomas’s pants.  
         “Why not?”  Releasing his body and leaving him to stand there with his prick standing free and desperate in the air, Thomas breezed past him and out of the room.  
         “You jerk!”  Guy-Man, holding his jeans up, followed after him into the bedroom, finding Thomas already peeling his shirt off, getting ready to discard it.  “Stop!  Stop!”  he told him, waving his hands and letting his jeans and underwear fall to the floor around his ankles.  
         “What?”  Thomas chuckled, his shirt still on his arms.  
         “Let me undress you.” Guy-Man proposed with a smirk as he followed Thomas’s suit and pulled off his shirt over his head.  He slipped his feet out of his shoes and his socks as well before he stepped over to the tall, fuzzy man and ran his hands down his arms.  “This is the only chance I’m going to get for a long time, isn’t it?”  
         Thomas blinked, momentary pity flashing over his features before he put the garment back on.  He didn’t know why he was rushing, this might have been sex with the same person he’d had for a long time, but for Guy-Man this was _his_ first time.  Not to mention it would be his _only_ time for many, many years.  While his own time left in his current era was short, he could afford slow down for Guy-Man’s sake.  This time _was_ special.  
         “Thank you.”  Guy-Man smiled, lifting himself up onto his toes to kiss him.  Thomas encircled his waist with his arms, taking the kiss slowly as Guy-Man’s hands rested on his hips.  They kissed at a leisurely pace, Guy-Man’s hands dragging up and down his side until they finally shoved Thomas to the bed.  Quickly, Thomas scooted on his back towards the head of the bed as his naked, young friend climbed on top of him.  
         “You’re gorgeous.”  Thomas blurted, sitting up with Guy-Man in his lap.  He touched his pliant skin and caught a nipple in his mouth, listening to the moan and near- _squeal_ that came from Guy-Man’s mouth.  While one hand kept him firmly against his chest, the other stroked down his back to his butt, kneading the soft muscle.  
         “Y-You too.”  Guy-Man granted once he was able to speak again.  As if his face wasn’t hot enough from all of this, his customary vocality was causing him more anxiety than he had considered possible. In lieu of his embarrassment, he grabbed Thomas’s shirt and pulled it off him easily with a bit of cooperation from the other person and tossed it away.  
         Thomas let him shove him down to the bed and bend to kiss him, with lustful miscoordination, he raised his arms to Guy-Man’s back and fumbled for his shoulders.  He dug his fingers in as he felt Guy-Man’s cock grind against his stomach and his tongue circle his lips.  Moans spilled from his mouth as Guy-Man dipped away from his mouth and nibbled on his neck, slowly working his way down south.  All at once his belt was undone and thrown aside and his pants were open, hot breath teasing him through the fabric of his boxers.  
         Guy-Man touched his hot, wet tongue to Thomas’s masked hardness, curling his lips in a smile as he felt Thomas squirm.  Carefully, he pulled the band down and drew out his penis, while he had seen it erect before, he had been very frustrated in that moment days ago; it was still like seeing it for the first time as he ran a saliva-soaked finger down its cut length.  A clear stream of precum beaded at Thomas’s head and trailed down to the corona of his glans; curious, Guy-Man swirled his tongue around the sensitive structure, tasting the bitter fluid and making his partner gasp.  Thomas drew in a breath and sighed as Guy-Man chose to run his rough tongue along it.  He listened to his friend’s moans as he took it into his mouth and gave it a few slick licks before sucking.    
         “Guy!  Guy…  Oh my god.”  Thomas moaned, whipping his hands to Guy-Man’s hair and lightly scratching his scalp.  “Like that…”  he muttered under his breath as Guy-Man built up a rhythm of dragging him in and out of the hot wetness of his mouth.  “So good, Darling.” Another sigh came from his mouth, his eyes closed in pleasure.  
         “You’re not going to come are you?”  Guy-Man questioned, taking the organ from his mouth to nibble--gently--and suck on his frenulum.  The way it made Thomas moan and his body twitch was awe-inspiring to him.  
         “No.”  Thomas chuckled through a wave of overwhelming good senses, “Not nearly.”  
         “Good.”  Guy-Man told him, taking Thomas back into his mouth and making the other man moan loudly with pleasure, the hands going back to scratching his scalp and kneading at his hair.  
         “Oh my--Guy--Ah!--I-I-Ffffuuaaaa-ah- **ah**!”  All manner of noises flew from Thomas’s mouth as he struggled to keep his hips still against the bed.  As he finally went slack against the sheets, sweat starting to create a sheen on his body all over again, he gasped, “Do you…  Do you have lube?”  
         “Yes.”  Guy-Man answered, climbing up to sit on Thomas’s stomach, the erect hardness sitting--pulsing--against his back.  Thomas’s hands fell from Guy-Man’s hair to his shoulders and ran down his arms to lay on his thighs on either side of his ribs.  They kneaded the skin as the older man grinned up at him with sparkling eyes of adoration.  The amorous gaze was returned from above in a pair of fantastic, blue orbs sitting above a wide grin.  
        “I love you, Guy.”  Thomas murmured, reaching one hand up to cup his round cheek.  
         “You too.”  Guy-Man rotated his neck, kissing Thomas’s palm, soon after taking his thumb into his mouth.  He sucked and licked all up and down Thomas’s exquisite digits, “Should I get a condom, or….?”  Guy-Man quietly questioned against Thomas’s moist palm.  “How does this work?”  
         “Do you want me to lead?” Thomas asked, raising his hand from Guy-Man’s mouth to run it through his flowing hair.  
         “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Guy-Man honestly answered with a little embarrassment.  “I know it’s not that different from…  From anal with girls, but--”  
         “It’s hardly different at all.”  Thomas assured him with a chuckle.  “I’ll ask again, what do you _want_ to do?” he chuckled up at the confused expression on Guy-Man’s face, “Because no matter what, I’m going to love it.”  
         “Well…  I…”  Guy-Man thought for a moment, feeling increasingly self-conscious as he evaluated his desires.  With a red hot face he mumbled something unintelligible.  
         “I know you’re nervous, Darling, but I can’t hear you.”  
         “I’d like…”  Guy-Man huffed and looked away from him, crossing his arms over his chest.  
         “Please look at me.”  Thomas entreated, reaching his hands up to untangle Guy-Man’s classic defensive barrier between him and the rest of the world.  With soothing strokes of his thumbs to the backs of Guy-Man’s hands he repeated his request.  
         Grudgingly, Guy-Man turned and looked to Thomas--ever patient, lovely Thomas.  He sighed and fumbled with his tongue a bit, noting the way his partner smiled so adoringly, “I want you to….” he scoffed and grumbled some more, “Please, can you just--Ugh!”  Sheepishly, he tried to raise his hands up to his eyes to hide his face, but found Thomas holding them firmly and comfortingly, bringing one to his lips to kiss.  
         “You can do it.” he encouraged.  
         “Please, I want….  Thomaspleasefuckme.” Fell from his lips in a hurried stream, he hardly able to grasp that he had even said those very words.  
         “Gladly.”  Thomas gave him a toothy smile, “I just need that lube.  A-And the condom too.” he reminded as Guy-Man climbed off of him and fished around in the bedside end table.  Meanwhile, he sat up, already formulating a plan that was likely to work best for their given situation.  He at least _knew_ Guy-Man loved the position he had in mind.  As Guy-Man pulled a packet from the nearby drawer and tossed it to Thomas, the taller man leaned his back onto the headboard of the bed, drawing his hand slowly up and down his own length.  Guy-Man still needed to divest him of the pants he was wearing--at least there would be no awkwardness of shoes as he had already long taken care of those.  
         As the shorter man rested the bottle of lubricant on the corner of the table nearest Thomas’s hand, he licked his lips nervously.  
         “Have you ever done something like this before?”  Thomas enquired.  
         “Fingers, just that…”  Guy-Man admitted uneasily, calmed by the way Thomas just nodded.  
         “Would you like to smoke?”  Thomas offered, it wasn’t uncommon for Guy-Man to at least have a cigarette between his lips or fingers during congress--even if the cigarette was rarely lit.  
         “I-I think I’ll be fine.”  Guy-Man assessed, climbing back on the bed, “Do you want me laying down, or--”  
         “C’mere.”  Thomas motioned towards himself, pressing the condom into Guy-Man’s hand.  “First, how about you get these pants off me?”  
         Not needing to be told twice, Guy-Man reached for the rough denim and hard leather belt, pulling them off from Thomas in one fell swoop.  The pants landed on the hardwood floor with the clink of the belt’s buckle and Thomas chuckled, rolling his eyes fondly.  Maybe he was taken a little off guard by Guy-Man’s initiative to roll the condom onto him; his thick fingers ran strongly down his length as they unrolled the latex and it made him sigh with pleasure.  
         Picking up the lube on the nightstand, Thomas squeezed a copious amount onto his fingers, “Stride me.” he told him, Guy-Man propping himself up on his knees to face him.  “Put your hands on my shoulders.”  
         “Why?”  
         “Trust me.”  Thomas chuckled, his hand disappearing from Guy-Man’s sight, but not from his senses.  He felt his friend’s body shiver as his fingers found his opening.  Instead of trying to press right in, he gently rubbed and teased the orifice.  He grinned as Guy-Man sucked in a breath and tried to hold back a moan, “Be as loud as you like, I love it.”  Thomas assured him.  
         “Ah….”  Guy-Man gasped, drawing in a breath as Thomas’s first finger penetrated him.  His own fingers nailed themselves into Thomas’s shoulders however as the second finger was quick to join.  “Ah my…”  Guy-Man’s mouth hung open, his eyes gently closing as the long digits pushed farther inside.  “Your fingers--ah….  Thomas…”  Then they found his prostate, “Oh my-- **fuck**!  Do that again!” His whole body shook and he panted as Thomas’s fingers relentlessly massaged the walnut-sized organ inside of him.  “Fuck, fuck, fuck…”  He continuously muttered, his nails digging red, crescent-shaped divots into his partner’s skin.  “Aaaah!” tore from his lips as Thomas’s third finger continued to stretch him.  
         “Take the lube.”  Thomas directed, his smile not waning one bit as he watched Guy-Man try to rock back and forth onto his hand.  He was so beautiful, his face curled in pleasure, face flushed and body shimmering with sweat.  He was happy to see, however, that Guy-Man didn’t need any help figuring out what to do with the lubricant, his hands went straight from Thomas’s shoulders to the bottle and squeezed a liberal amount into his palm.  Thomas’s eyes flitted shut, Guy-Man’s hand slipping up and down his dick with the quickly warming gel coating it. “N-Now, let me help.”  Thomas’s hands suddenly transferred from being the calming, stabilizing forces in all of this to Guy-Man’s firm guides.  
         With a grunt, he gripped the backs of Guy-Man’s thighs and jerked him into position over his prick.  Going along with the strong pressure downwards on his hips, the younger man gasped and tensed and relaxed over and over again as he felt the long hardness invade his body.  The noises he was making with Thomas were far from dignified as he took as much as he thought he could.  
         “Thomas,” he panted, “wait, I need some time here.”  The sweat on his body made him shiver along with the uncommon stimulation.  He looked to his friend’s face, his mouth likewise hanging agape--but when was it not?--eyes only half open.  He couldn’t believe he was doing this…  Up until his current point it had been easy to accept that he really was Thomas, just older, capable of treating him the same, but all together categorizing him as different.  Staring back at each other in the heat of their shared moment, he realized he wouldn’t be able to look at _his_ Thomas the same at all after this.  There was no mistaking those shining doe eyes or the plump pucker of his lips, those dopey teeth or that _smile_.  
         He found his minute of contemplation interrupted as Thomas jarred his body with more pleasure, a hand vacating its spot from his glutes to grasp at his hardness.  He gasped and moaned as the experienced man pulled his foreskin over his head and then back down, exposing its shiny, tender surface.  With groping arms, he wrapped them around Thomas’s shoulders, pressing the other man’s face to the crook of his neck as he squeaked with each new pump over his length.  The other man gently nibbled at his neck, licking and kissing more than using his teeth and he asked, “Are you okay now?”  
         “P-Peachy.”  Guy-Man reluctantly replied back.  
         “I’ll let you set the pace.”  Thomas panted.  
         “You’re not going to break me.” the younger man huffed.  
         “No, but don’t underestimate my ability to wreck you.” the other growled ominously.  
         “If that’s your style…  Then wreck me.”  Guy-Man’s strong fingers clutched harshly to Thomas’s back as he rotated his hips down further, pushing the cock further inside him and back out again.  He moaned and shook, his thighs feeling stiff from sitting in one position.  
         “A-Are you sure?”  Thomas interrogated, unsure of whether or not that side of him was actually acceptable or not.  “I-I get kinda--”  
         “Thomas--Ah!”  Guy-Man blushed furiously as he realized that in leaning back to look him in the eye he pushed the cock further up inside himself.  While he playfully slapped Thomas’s face as he laughed at him, he tried to regain some semblance of his composure, “Thomas….”  He sighed, pushing his hair out of his face.  “I have a hunch, and it’s a really good one, that I don’t give a rat’s ass what you get off on or how you exactly fuck me in bed…  Because I _married_ you.”  Whoa…  “But I know nothing about who you are now--not really--there’s a lot you said we have to experience and go through together and I don’t want you to talk about those things because I want to experience them without preconceived notions.  But, I’m just asking for some kind of consolation--I know you love me, you would never do anything I don’t like, or at least nothing is mean-spirited--show me how you love me.”  
         Thomas swallowed thickly, looking away from him for a second as he bit his lip, “Okay…” He mouthed to the bed, another swallow and “Turn around.”  
         Lifting himself off Thomas, Guy-Man did as asked, resting his back against his lover’s chest and repositioning himself over him.  As he let Thomas reenter him, his touches were still soft, his fingers brushing the dark trail of hair down his stomach to his groin as one hand went back to slowly pumping him.  He sighed, relaxing around him and lolling his head to one side as Thomas gave him gentle, lingering kisses on his neck and jaw.  
         “Tell me to slow down or stop if it’s too much, okay?”  
         “I will.”  Guy-Man nodded, his heart hammering in chest and skipping a beat as he felt Thomas’s arms tense and his hands clasp his thighs.  “Ah!”  He shamelessly moaned as the taller man thrusted up inside of him, pressing him down onto his hardness.  “Fuck--fuck--fuck!”  Guy-Man screamed as Thomas set a grueling pace, his arms moving him up and down in tandem with his cock plunging in and out of him.  He heard Thomas growl at his back and bite into the flesh of his shoulder.  Wincing at the pain, he cried out again, tears pricking at the edges of his vision before he squeezed his eyes shut.  “Thomas!”  
         “Touch yourself, Darling.” The other man controlling him commanded, his harsh motions and voice making the sweet pet name feel out of place to Guy-Man.  
         “Y-Yes.” He moaned, feeling his orgasm fast approaching as he violently stimulated himself.  “Ow!  That hurts!”  he whimpered, feeling Thomas’s teeth dig back into his skin, the way their ridges raked over his flesh leaving tingling trails.  It felt good, somehow, base and natural.  A scream filled the room from him as Thomas’s dick smacked perfectly into his prostate, nearly making him come on the spot, “Oh my fuck, oh my fffffuuuuuu--”  His voice gave out on him as he shook and took a rasping inhale against the waves of pleasure pulsing through him.  “Thomas!  Talk to me!”  
         “You’re so lovely.”  Thomas gasped in between breaths.  “Guillaume.”  Taking a hand from one of Guy-Man’s fleshy thighs, he let his younger partner help him keep pace with his weakening legs to grasp his jaw.  “Kiss me, slut.”  
         “What?”  
         “I’m sorry!”  
         “Never mind,” Guy-Man panted, “Don’t talk to me.” he let out a laugh as they melded their lips together, Thomas continuing to hammer away at Guy-Man’s backside.  “Don’t fucking apologize to me for that.”  
         “S-Sorr--”  
         “Oh, you’re a real, t-terror-- _fuck_ , Thomas!”  Guy-Man’s hands fisted in the sheets of the bed, threatening to tear them from the mattress.  
         “T-Talking privileges,” he paused to take a few deep breaths of hedonistic feeling, sweat trailing down his forehead, “revoked?”  
         “ _Oh_ \--exactly!”  
         For the next ten minutes the only sounds heard were the squeaking of the mattress, the slap of skin and hitching breaths slowly working their way up the register.  
         “Hhhnnn--hhn--hah-- _ah_ \-- **ah**!”  It all suddenly became too much for Guy-Man to bare,  “ _ **Fuuhhhhh-ckkkkkkkkkk**_!”  His pearly stream shot over his hand and the bed as his orgasm ripped through him, leaving his conscious thoughts in tatters.  As if all the rhythmic spasms were trying to draw Thomas into him, the man beneath him pressed deeper and deeper, panting and sweating and growing as he continued to desperately fuck him.  
         With astounding force, Thomas surged forward, shoving Guy-Man from his lap and to the bed, exiting him as he did so.  The transitory lack of contact didn’t last more than a fraction of a second as Thomas forced him onto his knees and mounted him.  Suddenly the dog analogy came rushing back to Guy-Man as Thomas’s force pressed his face into the bed clothes.  He screamed into sheets, scarcely comprehending how this all could still feel so good as his spent cock dribbled what little was left of his come to the bed, bobbing back and forth with their momentum.  
         “Hng!  Hng!”  Guy-Man heard above him, taking note of Thomas’s progressively jerkier movements until there was a loud, “Aaaauuugh!” deep and low in his throat; it was very similar to Thomas’s impression of a robot voice, if Guy-Man was honest about it.  He remained inside of him, still driving deeper into him as he rode out the waves of his own small death.  Panting, he bent forward, moisture trailing down his body as heat rolled off in dissipating waves.  “Guy?”  he wheezed in a small voice.  
         “Yeah?” he answered, equally breathless and undone.  
         “Are you okay?”  
         “Better than okay…”  He assured with a smile as he gasped when Thomas removed himself from his backside.  “I won’t be able to sit properly, I think.” he commented.  
         “You’d be surprised.” Thomas reassured him.  Shuffling with heavy breaths to the already condom-littered garbage can of Guy-Man’s room.  Pulling the condom off, he deposited it in the bin and grabbed a tissue from the nearby desk that held Guy-Man’s desktop computer and combination fax-machine-printer.  He wiped himself off, threw away the tissue and made his way back over to the bed, Guy-Man laying on his side, exhausted.  
         “I’m not bleeding, am I?”  he asked quietly, jumping at the sudden re-invasion of Thomas’s finger, “Hey!”  
         “You’re fine.”  Thomas informed him, examining the finger that was devoid of anything concerning in the low light.  
         “You’re invasive.”  Guy-Man commented.  
         “I just violated your butt, yeah, I am.”  
         Guy-Man burst out laughing, curling in on himself as Thomas joined him with a light chuckle.  He laughed harder as Thomas’s fingers dragged over sensitive areas on his side and he squirmed.  
         “Stop that!”  
         “Don’t show weakness!”  Thomas bellowed, jumping on top of him with more joyous chortled as he tickled him.  
         “No-no-no-no-no!”  Guy-Man cried, trying to escape as his body violently ejected jovial guffaw after guffaw.  “Stoppit you asshole!”  he demanded as his stomach started to cramp with all the past hour’s exertion.  
         “Heheheheh.”  Thomas bent low and kissed one of his sweaty temples, striding him on his hands and knees.  
         “I think I love you.”  Guy-Man giggled, finally calming.  
         “You think?” the older man teased.  
         “Shut up, Bangalter.”  
         “Want to shower with me?” he asked, smoothing a loose lock of hair behind one of Guy-Man’s ears.  It went to say that he immediately undid all of his work as he then ran his fingers through the mane before him.  
         “Sure.”  Guy-Man wriggled out from underneath him and stood, “Just, uh, wait here, I have to pee, and uh…”  
         “Yeah.”  Thomas nodded with a smile, the two sharing a kiss as Guy-Man walked across the hall.  
         Stretching, Thomas took in a breath and released it, walking over to where his pants had ended up and plucking his phone out of the pocket.  He supposed now was the best time to review that message that had been waiting for hours.  
         Dialing his mail, he held the phone to his ear and waited.  
         “You have:  No unheard messages.  First skipped message.”  
         “As I was going to say earlier, Thomas, I can’t really tell you what to do.  Though, it’s me, he’s me--god it’s weird to talk about myself like that--and I…  I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but I’m guessing so, but I fell in love with you so hard back then…  And I’ve loved you ever since.  Our first…  It’ll hang on my mind for years whenever I’m with you, young you, of course.  Everything that happens from when you are to where I am…  I sometimes feel so pathetic, Thomas, from that first night of us together and you left me to go back…  And you were just gone…”  Guy-Manuel sighed, “I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”  he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for what happened before you left.  I’m sorry I’m only apologizing now…  I just want you home.  I love you.  Goodbye.”  
         “End of message. Inb--”  
         Thomas frowned, setting the phone aside.  He wished he could tell Guy-Manuel he loved him too, he also wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have been beating himself up about the event before this happened.  Though, as Thomas had counted it as a routine occurrence, maybe that was a bad thing.  Standing from the bed again, he mulled over Guy-Man’s peculiar wording in his message.  
          _“... from that first night of us together and you left me to go back…  And you were just gone.”_ Guy-Manuel couldn’t possibly have meant that he disappeared back to 2014 _tonight_?  He growled under his breath, he couldn’t tell Guy-Man that…  So…  As he formulated what he was going to do, he felt like a total scuzzball.   _It can’t be helped._  He reminded himself, he couldn’t stay, he didn’t really want to either with his distraught husband back in his time.  With a sigh, he strolled across the hall and knocked on the door.  
         “It’s unlocked!”  
         Strolling on in, Thomas closed the door behind him and found Guy-Man getting ready to hop into the shower, a half-empty glass of water to his lips.  
          “Want some?”  Guy-Man offered, Thomas accepting it and downing what was left.  
          “Thanks.”  Thomas set the glass down as Guy-Man entered the hot spray.  He followed after him and let out a breath of relief as the hot water flowed over him.  “Damn.” he chuckled.  
         “Feels nice, right?”  Guy-Man closed his eyes and leaned against him, nuzzling his face into the patch of hair between Thomas’s pectorals.  He relaxed further against him as Thomas raised his arms and embraced him nigh protectively.  Tipping his head upwards, his lips stretched into a tired grin when Thomas sloped his neck for their foreheads to bump together.  “I don’t know why you keep doing this, but it’s adorable.”  
          “It’s as close as we get to kissing in our helmets.”  Thomas explained with a bit of humor.  “It’s something of an inside joke.”  
          “Robot kiss.”  Guy-Man giggled.  
          “You Make My Circuits Short.”  Thomas joked in his best impression of a vocoded, robot voice, succeeding better than most.  
          “I see you still do that, you big dork.”  
          “Still Do What?”  
          “Stop that.”  Guy-Man shoved him, prompting a laugh.  
          “It hurts my throat now if I do it for too long.”  
          “Good.”  
          As they parted to find their mutual soaps, Thomas frowned, he had to at least tell him he was leaving _very_ soon…  
         “Guy, you know I’m not staying forever.”  
         “Yes, I know…  Do you know how much longer you have?”  
          _A couple hours?_  “No.”  
         “So it could happen at any time?”  
         “Yeah…  So I think we have a lot of things to talk about before that happens.”  
         “Like what?”  
         “Just general things…  I don’t need anything changing in the future…  We both have two children, after all.”  
         “Really?  Did we adopt or--”  
         “No, they have mothers.”  Thomas informed him, “Very _important_ mothers…”  
          “Oh…”  Guy-Man said under his breath, running soap through his hair and actually letting his hands fall to his sides as Thomas’s hands batted them away.  “Let’s talk about it later, okay?”  
         “Of course.”  
         In the thick, sultry air of the shower, the two washed each other clean, soap trailing down their bodies in foamy rivulets.  As Thomas made sure his love was completely clean, he lowered himself to his knees, burying his face into Guy-Man’s stomach, arms tightly around his hips.  He snuggled against him when his fingers gently stroked his head, his eyes drifting closed in the completeness of the moment.  
         “Is there something you want me to say?” the younger man enquired.  
         “Anything coming to mind?”  Thomas sniggered, kissing his belly and running his tongue around over the wet skin.  
         “U-Uh--um…  You don’t mind me--”  
         “Just say what you want to.”  
         “You’re really cute like this.” he made a barely intelligible noise of humor, “Like a puppy.”  
         Thomas nuzzled harder into his stomach, his hands beginning to run up and down the outsides of Guy-Man’s legs.  He smiled and kissed downwards to his partner’s hip bones, happily seeing a slowly hardening organ near his chin.  That was all it took for Thomas to make Guy-Man lose himself to pleasure again, his lips easily gliding around the familiar, thick protrusion.  Guy-Man moaned, stroking his hair and muttering nothings under his breath.  
          When Thomas felt Guy-Man’s orgasm approach, he popped him from his mouth, albeit leaving his tongue in contact as his face waited for the inevitable few drops of come to spatter over him.  Guy-Man gasped at the behavior, trying to hold himself back long enough to point his dick somewhere else, but all the same what little of his seed that was left in him from earlier spilled all over his friend’s face.  He would’ve been lying to himself if he had said it wasn’t an attractive sight…  
         “You’re gross…”  Guy-Man looked way, his face red; he tried to tell himself that Thomas’s licking the come from his lips and swallowing wasn’t hot or the way that he dragged his fingers down the little dots to lick them off wasn’t either.  Again, he failed in that and felt incredibly ashamed for it.  
         “Did you not like my mouth, Darling?”  Thomas asked in a pitiful voice that made Guy-Man shake.  
         “N-No, it was very good…  You’re great at that.” he giggled in spit of himself.  
         “So I was a good boy?” the man on his knees questioned, recoiling a little at the sudden look of surprise on his partner’s face.  He cleared his throat and looked to the floor, right, not Guy-Manuel, not old enough to get it yet.  “Uh, forget I asked that.”  
         “Um, s-sure.”  Guy-Man watched him as he slowly stood up, turning his back to him to wash the now gummy fluids from his beard and skin.  Realizing that he had committed some sort of infraction with his reaction, Guy-Man apologized by pressing himself to Thomas’s back in an embrace.  “You’re great.” he murmured again, happy when he heard Thomas chuckle back.

           
         “I hate you, Bangalter.” the shorter man whispered against his counterpart’s lips.  They had since moved from the shower back to Guy-Man’s bed, both nestled under the covers, tangled up each one another.  
         “Why?” Thomas responded with a smile.  
         “Because I know you’re going to leave…  And you won’t love me anymore.”  
         “I’ll still _love_ you in the meantime, Guy…  Just differently.”  He ran a hand through Guy-Man’s still-wet hair, “I’ll come around eventually, though.”  There was no better time than now to discuss this, he supposed.  
         “ _How_ eventually…?”  Guy-Man pressed.  
         “I can’t tell you.”  Thomas bit his lip.  
         Frustrated, Guy-Man whined, “Within the next ten years, or…?”  
         Thomas nodded, “Yes.”   _In ten years exactly._  “Remember that, no matter what happens between now and then.  People who walk into my life or yours, the things that I do, the things that you do…  No matter what, I _will_ come around one day.  Don’t close yourself to _any_ experience with another person…  Have fun, be happy, don’t stress about it, because it will happen.”  
         Conflicted, Guy-Man looked away from him, considering his words.  There was a part of him that told him he was stupid for tasting what he wasn’t going to have for a long time yet.  He knew he was going to crave it and it would be out of his reach.  Though, he guessed that was where the opportunity to find distractions came in.  
         Thomas wished there was something he could do for his trouble, but so much had to happen, all he had to offer though was, “At least I’ll still always be here for you.  It might not be the same, but I’m going nowhere.”  
         “That is worth something…”  Guy-Man tiredly murmured against the sheets.  As Thomas lifted his hand to stroke his hair, he let his eyes drift closed.  “Dude, I’m gonna fall asleep if you keep doing that.”  
         “I’m falling asleep too, to be honest.”  
         “Thomas?”  
         “Yeah?”  
         “I love you.” he muttered, his tongue barely able to form the words as the thick fuzz of sleep enveloped him.  
         “I love you too.” was the last thing he heard as he finally gave in.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second-to-last and by far the longest chapter of the story. It's been a fun ride everyone, now sit tight for Guy-Manuel's side of things.


	12. Chapter 12

__ He was awake…  The bed was empty…  
__          “Thomas?” his voice was scratchy from sleep.  
__          He needed a cigarette.  
__          “Fucker.”  
__          He climbed from bed, still naked, body sore from the previous night’s exertions.  Maybe they could add to the soreness that morning.  He wouldn’t mind it at all.  
__          “Thomaaaas!” he called into the hallway outside his room.  
__          No answer.  
__          “What?”  Groggily, he stumbled into the living room.  
__          The light outside was bright--he should’ve left those papers Thomas had taped there--he squinted his sensitive eyes against it.  
__          “Thomas?!” He called again, knowing it was futile as the familiar silver helmet was missing from the coffee table.  
__          He just left…  He didn’t say goodbye.  
__ Why would he? _  he internally considered.   _ He really isn’t going anywhere.  
__           Then why did he feel like crying so much?  
__          “Fucker.” his voice choked; water filled the corners of his eyes; his fists balled up at his sides; his teeth gritted.  
__          He would not fucking cry.  
__ Don’t you fucking dare.  
_          Thomas would never know about any of this.  
_ __ __ “Fuck this.” he sobbed; his tears flowed down his cheeks; he planted his fist into the wall; his teeth parted in another sob.

__ “Mmn.”  Guy-Manuel tightened his eyelids around his eyes as he took in his first morning breath.  That had been the last thing he had wanted to dream of.  It was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of.  The absolute last.  So he put off his upsetting dream memory and focused on other stimuli.  
         His mouth was dry, his head hurt, his joints creaked and…  And someone was sleeping on his chest.  Tiredly, he peeled his eyes open, the dark, long hair of a five-year-old flowed off his chest, his deep breaths blowing the fine wisps in waves.  Closing his eyes again, he grunted, his mouth having the sour taste of ruminant alcohol.  He took another deep breath and rolled his eyes to the bedside table, aware of the seven-year-old to his left that was cuddled up against him.  
         With a disappointed “tch” under his breath, he noticed that the half-empty bottle of tequila that had been there the night before was missing.  
_           Fuck you too, Elodie. _  he thought, returning his attention to the little girl happily snoozing on his chest.  Lifting a harsh hand, he very softly stroked her soft hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.  “Elise.” he whispered, “Time to wake up.”  With his other hand, he looked to the little boy, equally content in his sleep next to his other dad.  As he rubbed his back he muttered, “You too, kiddo.”  
         The little girl stirred a bit, but was more keen on falling back asleep on top of her papa than actually waking up.  Trevor, on the other hand, rolled away from him to bury his head under the covers and pillows of Thomas’s half of the bed.  Guy-Manuel chuckled under his breath at his stepson, reaching out to give his shoulder a shove, “Get up, buddy.”  
         “Papa, can you, no?” Elise grumpily murmured from on top of him.  
         “Can I ‘no’ what?” he teased as the girl moved her arm to her eyes to rub them.  
         “I wanna cuddle.” his stepdaughter was nigh unintelligible as she spoke against her own arm.  
         “Well, Papa’s gotta get up.” he reasoned.  
         “Noooo.”  The little girl complained  
         “Yeeeeeees.” he confirmed his earlier assertion.  When Elise shook her head back and forth against him, he sighed, “Listen kids,” he began, jostling Trevor’s shoulder as he did so, “Either you get up now, or I start to sing.”  
         “I like it when you sing.” Trevor’s muffled voice came from underneath the bedclothes.  
         “Me too!”  Elise cheerfully told him.  
         Guy-Manuel scoffed and rolled his eyes, “You’re your father’s kids alright.”  
         “Aren’t we yours too?” Trevor posed, pulling his fluffy head out from underneath the pillow.  He had his father’s fluffy morning hair so hardcore.  
         “Yes, but that’s not what I’m getting at here.”  Guy-Man sighed and sat up, letting Elise slide to the bed between his legs.  Her reaction was somewhat mixed between a giggle and a grumpy grunt as she hit the soft comforter.  
         “When’s Daddy going to be back?”  Elise then asked.  
         “I’m not good enough for you?” Guy-Man joked with a smile as his headache began to throb.  
         “I jus’ miss ‘im.” she muttered.  
         “Me too.” Trevor supplemented.  
         “Well, if there’s anything I know about your Daddy, it’s that you have to spend a _l_ _ ot _ of time waiting for him.” he chuckled at his kids.  “He’ll be back soon.” While the first was a clear assertion, this one was less confident.  He at least hoped he would…  Before he could let himself be plagued by his prevalent worries, he moved to inch from the bed.  
         “Papa, staaaay.”  The little girl whined, attaching herself to his hips as he stood.  
         Sighing, Guy-Man disentangled her arms from around him and picked her up to hold her at his hip, “This is the best you’re getting.” he warned her in his stern, fatherly voice.  
         “Okay.” she giggled, snuggling up against his shoulder and Guy-Man used his other arm to yank the covers off his son.  
         “Get up!” he ordered, Trevor clutching a pillow over his face in denial.  Smirking, Guy-Man bent down and ran a finger over the soles of the boy’s feet.  With muffled laughter, the boy kicked out, narrowly missing his papa and little sister’s faces.  “If you kick me, it’s all over for you, kiddo!”  
         “Papa!”  The little boy squealed as his parent tickled him.  “Okay!  I’ll get up!  Just stop!”  
         Guy-Man smirked down at the boy as he sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily, “I learned that trick from your dad.” he sniggered, “Now go get dressed, I’m sure your mother--”  
         “Guy?” The man was interrupted by the voice of his best friend’s ex-wife.  She was already in some sort of loose-fitting dress that morning, her hair tied up off her perfect shoulders.  
         “Good morning, Elodie.” Guy-Man gave her a tired, patronizing grin, “How are you this morning?”  
         “Doing better than you.” She responded back, equally snide.  “Come on, Trevor.” Elodie jerked her neck towards the door as she walked over to Guy and relieved him of their daughter.  “Your Papa and I have some things to talk about.”  Giving the little girl a kiss to her forehead as Trevor scurried out, she set her down on the floor, “Go with your brother.  Johnna is already waiting for you two in the kitchen.”  
         As the kids hurried off, Elise less enthusiastic than her brother was about being awake, Elodie closed the bedroom door.  
         “You called a babysitter over already?” Guy-Man complained as his conversant leaned against the only exit to the room and raised her eyebrow at him.  
         “You know what I’m here to talk about, Guy.” she started, her voice a little sad, “How’s the hangover?”  
         “How do you think?” Guy-Man hissed, peeling off the clothes he had fallen asleep in until he was naked.  
         “You’ve not drank this much in  _ years _ , I’m just--”  
         “Give it a rest, woman!”  the man cut her off, “Fuck, I know you’re worried,” he raised his hands towards her, “and I know you give a shit about all this--”  
         “I’m not going to sweep it under the rug, if this is a problem again.” She intervened, “Thomas and I did  _ not _ work so hard for you to fall off the wagon just because he’s been gone for two weeks.”  After a grunt, she emended, “Not  _ even _ two weeks.”  
         Guy-Man snorted and turned his back to her, walking over to the chest of drawers that housed his clothes, “I have it under control.” he growled over his shoulder before grumbling to himself, “And it’s not  _ because _ he’s gone…”  
         “No, you don’t.  I was fine with the bottle of wine at night…  I was fine when you asked me if you wanted to share that bottle of Thomas’s tequila and it was kind of funny to see what you’re like  _ happily _ wasted.  But tequila in your coffee in the morning and last night and...  Guy,” she snorted, shaking her head “you have  _ children _ now…” She pointed out, “More than one.  How do you think this looks to Luc to see you acting this way again?”  
         Silently, Guy-Man pulled on a pair of boxer-briefs, beginning to search for a pair of pants.  
         “I know you’ve thought of it--you’re one of the last people I would call selfish--but it doesn’t change that you haven’t done anything about it.”  When the man’s only response to her was a sigh she groaned a little, “You  _ know _ Thomas is coming back…  So, is there something else bothering you that you’re not telling me?”  
         Buckling his belt around his hips, Guy-Man leaned against the chest of drawers in front of him.  There was a line of photographs of the places he and Thomas had taken the kids, Elodie and Aurelia over the years decorating it along with pictures of them with the kids and one group photo of their whole family.  It was so disgustingly domestic that he had to look away from all the smiling faces and evidence of their collective happiness.  He took a deep sigh before he spoke, “There is something.” he admitted.  
         “What is it?”  Her voice drew closer to him as she strode away from the door towards him.  
         “Being honest…  When Thomas left me, I had always assumed he came back here, to this distant time to have this grand life with me.  Now that I’m here though…” Guy-Man cleared his throat, “I realize that I never once considered the possibility that he  _ didn’t  _ make it back.” he stood up straight from the chest of drawers and turned around to lean back on it to face his friend, “He never told me anything that he knew about his situation.  Which, was a good thing in retrospect, but knowing now that there are risks involved with passing through time streams, I realize how stupid I was to assume it was easy.”  He gritted his teeth as Elodie reached out to touch his shoulder and bring herself closer to him, “I spent all those fucking years,  _ pining _ away for his stupid ass only to hear that in seeing me back then he could’ve  _ died _ …”  
         “If you call yourself pathetic again I’m going to pluck every last one of these hairs out of your head.” She threatened.  
         He grunted and rolled his eyes, “I just won’t say it, then.”  
         Closing her eyes, Elodie shook her head and sighed, “I don’t know how you can be this way.” she rolled her eyes, “Thomas loves you more than…” a huff came from her lips, “More than  _ me _ .  And all you can do is just kick yourself over not considering that maybe you were going to be with him for a shorter time than you thought?”  
         “Two things--the first, you know that’s not true…  The second…  Aren’t you  _ at all _ worried that Thomas could be dead?!”  
         “Keep your fucking voice down; do you want the children to hear?” she hissed under her breath at him.  Seeing Guy-Manuel purse his lips she sighed and rested her hands on her hips, “Yes, I am worried…  I wish you would’ve told me this sooner.”  Her mouth trembled slightly as she worked to keep her tone even.  “Guy,” she began as the puzzle-pieces fell in line.  Guy-Man hadn’t been sad Thomas was missing, he had been in  _ mourning _ the whole time…  
         “I don’t call myself pathetic because of all the time I spent loving him from afar and waiting.”  He soothed, placing his warm hands on her arms and pulling her closer as he saw one realization after another flit across Elodie’s features, “Though, that is pathetic too,” he gave a self-deprecating chuckle, “Thomas was and  _ is _ always worth it…  What I’m pathetic for here is that I spent so much time  _ wasting _ time.”  She leaned against him, allowing his arms to slip easily around her.  
         “There were things that had to happen, Guy, you didn--”  
         “But I  _ do _ .” he cut her off, “I push him away in public--”  
         “It’s best that you two don’t publicize your relationship.” She excused.  
         “I don’t even talk to him on the phone if someone else is around;” he kept speaking, “hell, he got me flowers three weeks ago and I just blew him off and tossed them away.”  
         Having not known about the incident, Elodie remained silent; her friend  _ was _ unduly coarse sometimes…  All the same, she close to never heard Thomas complain about his husband.  
         “I’m just wondering…  If perhaps, that night in Glasgow, if maybe it had been me in front of that truck, instead of Thomas, would I actually--”  
         “You would actually be dead and you know it…” Elodie interjected.  
         “Thomas’s lack of coordination and that night’s drug-usage  _ aside _ …”  Guy-Manuel emended, “I wonder if maybe I’d be a little more like him now.”  
         “And how’s that?” She asked, sniffling and wiping a small tear from her eye as she leaned her head against him.  
         “Not passing up chances to show someone you love them.” the older man frowned.  
         “You two had a fight the night he disappeared, didn’t you…”  
         “Perhaps.”  Guy-Manuel let out a long sigh.  “Which,” he grumbled, “we never really fight anyway.”  
         “I’m sure he’ll come back okay…”  Elodie assured, her voice cracking.

 

__ “Guy?”  Thomas’s voice interrupted his reading.  
__          With a grunt, the older man raised his eyes from his text, muttering, “What is it now, Bangalter?”  For just a second, his heart jumped in his chest, a diamond ring floating before his face in Thomas’s palm.   As the reality of their relationship at this time set back in, however, he then promptly felt his whole being fall to the floor.  “What’s…  What’s that?” he asked, turning his eyes from the jewelry up to his friend’s.  
__          “I-It’s a ring…  I’m going to ask Elodie to marry me.”  
__ You fucking asshole! _   Guy screamed in his head.   _ What did you do wrong?  Married?   __ Though he remembered Thomas’s words about not skipping any opportunities as far as love went…  Suddenly, a thought occurred, “Is she pregnant?”  
__          Thomas spluttered, taking the ring back away from him, “I’m in love with her!” he asserted truthfully.  
__          “I’m not saying you aren’t, but is she?”  
__          “Y-Yes… M-Maybe…”  Thomas frowned, “W-W-We w-were going to t-tell you...”  
__          Guy-Manuel suddenly couldn’t be so angry anymore.  Thomas had said they had children…  He personally had long been a father, he should’ve just been happy that Thomas finally got to experience it.  Instead, he grinned to him, “Congrats, dad.”  
__          “O-Oh, thank you…  I’m kind of nervous.”  Thomas chuckled, moving to sit down next to him a moment later.  
_          “You’ll be a great father.”  Guy-Manuel soothed as he watched Thomas put the engagement ring away somewhere safe on his person.  While he could not be mad, he was unable to help the pervading sense of loss…  Did he really still want to be with Thomas  _ like that _?  In his heart was the resounding “yes” answer that had been there for years, but in his head, he didn’t want to get between Thomas and his love of Elodie.  He wished fervently that Thomas had thought to tell him specifics--he wasn’t being a homewrecker for loving him, right?--the children weren’t bitter at him over this, right?--he loved Thomas and only wanted him happy, but that necessary, “selfish” side of him told him he deserved to be happy too.  While Thomas wasn’t his  _ everything __ , Thomas was a big part of him and he wanted to share a romantic life with him.  What was the point of it, however, if Thomas wasn’t going to be happy with him?  “You can’t get much shittier of a father than me.”  Guy-Man reflected, attempting to resume his reading and pushing aside all his anxieties.  
__          “You’ve made some mistakes, we all do.”  Thomas agreed, never one to sugarcoat anything for Guy-Man and it just made him love him all the more.  Why was he just so disgustingly perfect all the time!?  It just wasn’t fucking fair!  
_          “Some more than others.”  
_ __          “You’ve apologized and you’re trying now…  That’s what counts, Guy-Man.”

__   
         “What should we do?”  Elodie asked, handing a small cup of espresso to Guy-Manuel in their parlor.  Having already had some herself that morning, the man accepted the dark brew and sipped it by himself.  “Should we meet him at the place he disappeared at, or…?”   
         “I don’t know.”  He shook his head, “After Thomas left that night, he didn’t tell me where he was going.  It’s possible he’s going to drop back in there, if that’s where he was headed.”  Leaning back in his chair, he drew his eyebrows together and sipped, flicking his eyes down to observe the almost black liquid.  “It was hard, you know….”   
         “What was?” Elodie questioned, also settling down in a chair.   
         “The years in between.  Because, I fell in love with him for the first time then…  And then the him from my time came back from vacation…”   
  
_ ”Guy-Man!” Thomas chortled, throwing his arms open for his friend. _ __   
_          “Thomaaaaaas.”  Guy answered, likewise opening his arms to him, but it was more of a “bro” greeting than anything else.  Hugging was not as common as Thomas’s elder counterpart had made it seem, but Guy-Man found himself wanting the hug nonetheless.  After spending that time crying--as relatively short as it was--he was more than ready for a bit of physical affection from the man.  Still, this wasn’t the Thomas that loved him, not yet. _ __   
_         “That shit was  _ tight _!” The younger man segued, closing the door to Guy’s apartment behind himself. “And that chick?” he laughed and sprung up and down a few times, “Amazing.” _ __   
_          And that was where Guy-Man had shut down during this conversation…  Before the elder Thomas, he would’ve loved to talk about this.  Before the elder Thomas, this would’ve been fun to hear the stories of debauchery, dancing and drunkenness…  Now though, now it just reminded him of what he had had a few nights before and wouldn’t again for many years. _ __   
_          “So I was thinking, Thomas, uh, we have an interview coming up soon in Japan…” _ __   
__          “Yeah, I know, but the beach--” And Thomas just carried on with his story and it pained Guy to merely feign interest.  He would’ve cared less had he not felt so cheap and used…  One fuck and some time in the shower together and he left?  Sure that wasn’t Thomas’s fault, he had no power of when he went back after all, but…  “Hey, man…  I-is something wrong?”  
__          “No, just…  Just tired.” Guy-Man made a show of stretching and yawning.  “I had a pretty wicked time while you were gone.”  
_         “O-Oh, really?” Thomas smiled, looking so eager and sincere…  It hurt Guy just to look at his face; his smile was perfect, the way his eyes crinkled and his lips peeled back from his teeth and…  And suddenly, he felt just a little bit better.  “Do tell.”  
_ __          “Well…”

__   
         “You made something up?” Elodie nodded expectantly.   
         “Oh yes, some of it I didn’t have to because we did a variety of interesting things and I just had to leave details of him out…  Which, come to think of it, just made the story half as long as it would’ve been.”  He took more of his espresso and savored it in his mouth, swallowing and taking a deep, calming breath afterwards.  “I loved him so much…  And I re-fell in love with him so many times.  He’s always just kept becoming better and better in every sense and he’s never let me down once.”  The dour man frowned deeply, “And I…” He raised a hand to his face.   
         “Don’t say it.  My threat from earlier still stands.”   
         “I spent a lot of time wasting time.  I spent so much time moping and…  There was  _ that _ around the time Luc was born…”   
  
_ ”I’m holding you here until you throw up.” _ __   
_          “Get off me, Thomas!” Guy-Man tried to elbow off the taller beanpole. _ __   
_          “No!  It needs to happen, Guy!”  Thomas narrowly avoided the elbow and threw his body into a shove that pushed them both to the bathroom floor. _ __   
__          “Why are you doing this to me?!” The elder of the two screeched, clawing at the floor, trying to get away from his best friend.  He knew Elodie and Aurelia were in the process of pouring out all of his bottles in the kitchen.  It was bad enough they were doing that, but Thomas’s restricting him just made it all the worse.  “Why can’t you and that bitch of yours just mind your own business?!”  
__          “Because I can’t name the last time you’ve called anyone a bitch just because you were angry, Guy!” Thomas started, “Because you have a son!  Because you have Aurelia; I don’t know what’s happened to make this, but I want to help you fix it!”  
__          Guy growled, shoving back the tears that wanted to push through, but not managing to throw Thomas off him, “There’s nothing broken.” he muttered towards the tile.  
__          “No, not broken, but something’s not right, Guy.  You’ve become a stranger to me.” Thomas answered, his voice equally quiet as if they were sharing a secret.  “That’s not right…  And if it’s this that’s causing it…  G-Guy, I want to help you.  Please l-let me.”  
__          “I hate you.”  
__          “That’s fine…  Even if you do, I want to help.”  
__          Guy sniffled, the moisture in his eyes threatening to overwhelm him, “Why are you so good and perfect?”  
__          “I’m  not.” Thomas corrected, “I never could be.  Please, Guy, I care, you’re my b-best friend.  I love you.”  
__          “I need to throw up.” the man laying prone on the floor gurgled.  He pulled himself up and spilled into the toilet in front of him, feeling Thomas settle in behind him…  It reminded him of that night, reminded him of everything.  His stomach emptied again and his eyes ran.  It was a little disgusting that the only way he could justify crying was through vomiting, but he didn’t need the third degree from Thomas.  So he cried, the convulsions from his angry stomach hiding his sobs.  
__          “Thomas?” he croaked when he finally finished, feeling the man’s long arms encircle him.  
__          “What?”  
_          “Nothing.”  Silence took them both, neither caring to comment more upon the situation.  That worked out just fine for both of them, because eventually, Guy-Man leaned back on Thomas.  He closed his eyes and Thomas tightened his hold on him.  The man’s forehead rested at the base of Guy-Man’s neck, his nose touched against his shirt which stuck to his skin with his cold sweat…  
_ __          With a pathetic noise, Guy lifted a hand, gripping Thomas’s wrist.  His arm shook with the intensity of his grip and Thomas squeezed him back.  Guy sniffled and smiled, this was what he needed…  Fuck that personal bubble bullshit, hugs from Thomas could fix anything.

__   
__ “He’s always just been so good…” Guy shook his head, “Always cared for me…” He sighed and leaned back, finishing up his espresso.  Then, licking his tongue over his lips, he smiled, “I always…  Tried to do the same.  My bitterness usually got in the way.  Until that first day that he took my hand.” His lips pursed, “And kissed me.”   
             Elodie smiled to him, the joy so evident in his words, “I remember your face.  I’d never seen you smile so wide.” Her brow then wrinkled with thought, “Nor have I again.”   
             Guy snorted, “Wasting time there.”  He sat aside his cup and leaned forward, clasping his hands together.  “If…  If Thomas is all right…”   
             “Don’t you do that.” Elodie stopped him before he could say more.   
             “I don’t want to waste time anymore.  Too much of it got lost in all those years waiting.”  He stood, smoothing down his clothes, looking momentarily lost.   
             “Do you want to go now?  The babysitter is here.”  Then Elodie thought again, “Or do you want to go alone?”   
             Guy-Manuel thought, drumming his fingers, then smiled to her, “You’ve been the best support these past weeks and I know Thomas missed you as well.”  He held out his hand to help her to her feet, “I love you too, Elodie, better than my own flesh and blood.”   
             “Oh, great, I’m sure Paul has a hit out on me now that you’ve said that.” She laughed, squeezing his hand before letting go to attend the babysitter.   
             “I’ll get the car started.”   
***   
             Guy-Man huffed and ground his heel against the pavement. It was a habit left over from the old smoking days.  Finish a cigarette, grind out your frustrations on its butt.  He glanced at Elodie from underneath his head of shaggy hair, she was looking as prim and together as ever.  Quite the unlikely pair to be waiting outside a studio together.  He couldn’t deny the excited jitter in his bones, but he also couldn’t discount his worries.  What if Thomas  _ wasn’t _ coming back?  It would just be him and Elodie…  With all the kids and…  Guy-Man bit his tongue, that wasn’t an option to consider for him.  Thomas had been present for more than half his life and thusly, without him, half his world would be gone.   
             “Do you want to go in?” Elodie reached down to pat his shoulder.   
             “I’m…  I’m ready.” Guy nodded, swallowing thickly and reaching up to clasp Elodie’s hand, “Thank you…”   
  
             The two waited.  Guy and Thomas’s friend--the owner of the studio--eventually had to leave.  He was gracious enough to leave the keys with Guy-Man, understanding the upset he was going through.  Elodie had to text the babysitter, asking her to stay longer.  Midnight came and rolled right on by, Elodie and Guy remained.   
             A sniffle broke the silence between them.   
             “It’ll be okay, Guy.” Elodie rubbed his back. “Maybe the calculation was just wrong?”  She saw the way he shook his head and sighed, pulling him into a hug.  He grasped onto her arms, starting to shake, but made no noise, his sobbing was silent, his lamentations were dry.  “It’s going to be okay.”  A short sob broke from her as well, her face pressed into Guy-Man’s back.  “We’re going to be okay.”   
             They stood in silence.   
             “Do you want to go home?” She stroked his hair back from his forehead.   
             Guy nodded.   
             “Okay, let’s go.” Elodie squeezed him tightly and lead him up the stairs and out of the studio.  Guy-Manuel made sure to lock all of the doors and shut off the lights.  His hands shook and he felt like going to his knees, sobbing on the sidewalk.  It wouldn’t fix anything, but without Thomas…  It was just all that much harder to see the positives in the situation.   
             “Come on Guy, we can’t stay here.” Elodie tugged at his arm, casting glances around the dark side street.  “We need to get some sleep…  Figure out what to do tomorrow.”   
             “Here, let me help.”   
             Guy-Man’s whole body stiffened, Elodie’s hand clutched tighter onto his arm.  His eyes red and his mouth hanging open aghast, Guy-Man looked up to the owner of the voice.   
             Under one arm, slung against his hip, was the familiar silver helmet, above that-- _ way _ above that--was Guy’s favorite mega-watt smile.  Guy-Man let out a tiny squeak, stumbling past Elodie and against his chest, squeezing him with all his might.   
             Elodie took Thomas’s helmet from him, joyful tears filling her eyes and streaming down her face.  She didn’t hug him though, no, this was  __ their time.  She would get her turn.   
             Thomas bent low, likewise wrapping his arms around Guy.  He nuzzled his nose against the crying man’s ear and whispered to him, “I got your messages.”   
             “I’m sorry.” Guy-Man choked, “I’m so sorry.”   
             “Don’t be sorry.” Thomas kissed his cheek and hugged him all the tighter.  “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”   
             “I love you.” Guy sobbed, smooshing his wet lips all over Thomas’s jaw and beard, gazing up at him as if it was the first time he’d ever seen him.  “Even if I’m…  I’m bad at showing it.”  He sniffled as Thomas reached a large hand up and wiped the tears from his cheeks.   
             “I love you too.” Thomas’s eyes flicked up, “Both of you.”  Then back down to Guy, “Let’s go home, I’ve missed you so much.”   
             “My Thomas.” Guy stroked his husband’s cheek, fingers rustling in his facial hair, his heart hammering in his chest.  “What do you say to renewing our vows?”   
             Thomas blinked a few times and chuckled eventually, “We going to have a ceremony this time?”   
             “Whatever you want.  The whole world can know I’m yours forever for all I care.”   
             Thomas hummed, his smile undiminished, “Let’s get home first, then we can work everything out from there.”  He closed his eyes, placing his forehead against Guy-Man’s, both of them basking in the simple, intimate gesture, “Forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two years later, here it is. Thank you for reading everyone.


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